Daywalkerpox
by Zormikea
Summary: It's not love. It's not affection. It must be a disease, then. Kyle wonders if it's curable. Kenny knows it isn't.
1. Chapter 1

"Uh huh. Yeah. Yeah, we're getting there."

The sun was barely visible anymore, most of its circle hidden behind a cloudy blanket that was hovering over the mountain tops. On the back seat, Kyle shifted, scanning the flashing surroundings with his tired eyes – the ride was horribly, horribly long, and he was too frustrated to try putting on a happy face. His back was complaining, and he wanted to stretch his legs more than anything, but there just wasn't enough space in the car, and so he had to keep them bent. The bottle of water he'd bought hours ago at a gas station was lying empty next to his thigh.

"About an hour. No, I know exactly where we're going. We're neighbors now, after all. Yeah. Yeah, okay, see you soon. Bye." Gerald dropped the phone back into his pocket and smiled at his wife when he caught her watching. "Don't worry. I've got this."

Nobody was one hundred percent certain what it was that he had gotten. The entire moving event had just fallen through the ceiling of their little merry abode one day, stood right up and proceeded to kick the unsuspecting family in the balls. Kyle, who'd barely stepped into adulthood with a luggage full of unrealized plans, was forced to abandon everything - his friends and little brother included.

During the last family gathering back in Miami, Ike had noticed the troubled expression his brother was wearing, and attempted to comfort him. He'd said that the mountain air was fresher, and the nights there were quieter… just like in Canada. Kyle had smiled at him, but he would be lying if he said he didn't envy his little brother. Ike was still bound to college and thus didn't have to go through this nightmare.

Miami seemed so distant, so unreachable now. Kyle had managed to get his lawyer degree before their family nearly went bankrupt, and now his best shot was to start his law practice in Colorado, alongside his father. He supposed it was better than dealing with the rapidly dropping variety of clients back at their state. Besides, he wouldn't say that everyone in here was a complete stranger.

"They're expecting us." Gerald caught his son's reflection in the mirror. "I bet you're excited to see Stan again. It's been what, two years?"

Kyle nodded absently, absorbed by the scenery outside. Stanley Marsh was his "sort of friend", that kind of a friend where you're considered such just because your parents developed a habit of calling each other on various occasions. They'd met only once, actually: two years ago, during a football game in Denver. Kyle didn't remember the meeting very well because he hadn't been paying much attention, and he suspected the same applied to Stan. However, now that Kyle was about to dive into a world full of awkward social loneliness, he hoped to get closer.

An hour later, South Park finally revealed itself to its residents to be, and it looked quite attractive with its long rows of little houses and well-kept gardens. Birds were chirping merrily from their nests on the large trees, and probably due to that harmony the spirits, albeit reluctantly, started to rise. Sheila's hands, however, remained stiff against her knees: concerns refused to let her be. South Park was a good choice, but the Broflovskis put their entire savings into this unpredictable future. They chained themselves to the town, and if something horrible decided to knock on their door, they'd have to shut their mouths and roll with it.

"There they are!"

Kyle leaned away from the window and glanced to where his father was pointing: up ahead stood a dark green building – the Marshes' house. In front of it, two men in two nearly identical brown jackets were waving their hands, and a dog was running circles around them, its ears sticking up and tail restless.

A tiny smile found its way to Sheila's face. "Come on, Kyle, let's say hi."

Gerald parked the car by the sidewalk and turned the ignition key, putting the engine to sleep. As soon as the doors were open, cold air rushed inside, and Kyle shivered at the intrusion. He'd been eager to get out of the vehicle for a while now, but when he saw Stan approaching, his confidence quivered. Kyle stood up and squeezed the door, searching for an appropriate greeting; meeting new people wasn't usually hard, but this was crucial because he didn't know anyone in here except for the Marshes, and he didn't want to mess things up.

Stan didn't seem to have such concerns. He greeted his new neighbors with a polite smile, nodded to Mr. and Mrs. Broflovski and then let his eyes slip to their son.

"Hey, dude." The smile widened as politeness bloomed into genuine friendliness. Kyle blinked at the change, slowly smiled back and raised his hand in a greeting. Stan shook it without hesitation.

"Hi."

Kyle briefly wondered why he'd never bothered calling this guy.

"Go get some food, boys!" Randy gestured towards the house. He had an arm wrapped around Gerald's shoulders, and the latter laughed as if it was a part of their daily routine. "You can talk inside. We'll join you in a few, just need to take care of the furniture first."

"Come. You must be starving." Stan nodded at the entrance, and Kyle grinned.

"Yeah."

He hadn't visited Stan's house before – despite all the promises his parents had made, it had never come to that. The living room was large and spacious; Kyle took a moment to look around when he entered. The walls had a nice purple color to them, and there wasn't much furniture scattered around – only the necessary stuff.

Stan led him further into the house, past the couch and the working TV, and it was then when Kyle's nose caught a mix of magnificent, mouth-watering smells. Stan snorted.

"When was the last time you ate?" he asked.

"I don't know. Maybe a few years ago," Kyle mumbled.

"Good. Mom's made so much food our table is literally breaking."

* * *

All things considered, Stan was a great friend. Of course, only a day had passed, but he paved the progress with giant steps, acting like he'd known Kyle for his entire life. He was direct and honest, and his sense of humor had familiar twists and borders. Plus, he suggested becoming Kyle' guide to South Park and its surroundings before the latter even asked - and he was good at the job. Kyle quickly discovered where to go should he find himself bored, learned where to get fresh coffee or where to meet his newfound friend during his working hours – Stan spent them at his uncle's gun shop and was next in line to becoming the owner.

South Park wasn't a very large town, and a couple of hours was plenty to discover the bigger part of it. People all around seemed to know each other's faces, and everyone was everyone else's friend – a trait no other place Kyle had ever visited possessed. Initially, it had occurred to him as weird, and he wasn't sure exactly how much work he and his father would be getting here. With time, however, he accepted this peculiarity and chose to deal with any upcoming difficulties upon their arrival.

Stan introduced him to a few interesting spots for his yet nonexistent weekends and days off: Stark's Pond was perfect for a quiet rest with a book or two, Jimbo's gun shop was located next to a bar (though Kyle wasn't counting on going there often), and then there was a mall. Stan described the latter as a good place for meeting new people or spending some quality time in a company – apparently, that was where he went with his friends and/or girlfriend. Kyle had yet to meet both.

There was just one nagging flaw in all of South Park, and it lived behind the railroad that happened to be separating Kyle's house from the poor area of the town. Kyle himself hadn't stumbled upon any poor people so far, but if he cared to look out of the window at night, he could see light pouring out of the tiny cracked windows that belonged to the old buildings. That, and he could swear he'd heard someone shouting before he went to bed last night.

He tried not to think about that too much.

The following Monday morning marked the beginning of Kyle's new working routine. He woke up five minutes earlier than his alarm and maneuvered his way into the bathroom, avoiding the obstacles made of unopened boxes – he simply hadn't had time to deal with them. As soon as his hair was tamed and his teeth were brushed, Kyle joined his parents down in the kitchen, and a breakfast later he rose up again and followed his father outside. He was eager.

…sadly, his first day in the office didn't turn out to be much of a challenge. Despite continuously asking for work, Kyle ended up doing mostly trivial tasks like moving stuff around and checking various documents while his father loaded all the major parts onto his plate. At times when Kyle found himself sitting idle and helpless about it, he wondered what it would've been like if he'd managed to stay in Miami and got himself a decent job instead of this. During one of those sad moments Stan sent him a message and made the day even duller.

 _[Sry, can't meet u 2day. Wendy needs me]_

Kyle groaned; he'd been looking forward to the mall trip. Stan had texted him earlier today, saying that a bunch of over-confident people had opened a new coffee shop somewhere on the second floor, and he was incredibly skeptical towards "the best coffee in all of South Park". _"Tweek makes the best coffee,"_ he'd said. _"You know I'm right, you've tried it yourself. They can't just walk in and take the title he and his family took years to establish."_

Well, the degustation would have to wait. Kyle sighed as he typed the reply.

 _[Don't sweat it. We can meet tomorrow.]_

Which left him with absolutely no plans after work, as if the already oppressive calm wasn't driving him crazy enough. Kyle pouted at his friend's contact number and then brushed it away, switching to the list of tasks he'd made for the day. All points were crossed out, duties fulfilled by him or his father, but maybe Kyle had forgotten to type something down…

The phone buzzed, and another message popped up.

 _[Thanks]_

"No problem," he muttered, turning off the screen and tucking the phone back into his pocket. It was no use; his father had taken care of everything.

The rest of the day went painfully slow. Kyle's eagerness to work never learned to shut its mouth, and there was nothing he could do about it. Fortunately, the darker it became outside, the less persistently it gnawed at him until it finally receded into the background and let him have his peace. At about eight in the evening his father announced that the day was over and offered Kyle a ride to their house, but he didn't feel like going there yet and opted to take a walk around instead. The unopened boxes could wait another hour.

It was relatively cold when they got outside. Gerald climbed into the warmth of his car and started the engine, and as Kyle watched him drive off, one part of him regretted not bringing a hat while the other brushed it off, assuring him that his hair was enough. Kyle rarely cut it – didn't see any necessity – and it remained wild and fiery and stuck out in different directions if he forgot to comb it (and sometimes even if he didn't). That usually attracted lots of glances, but he'd already gotten used to that during his years in college.

The car disappeared around the corner, and Kyle began his way to nowhere in particular, hands in his pockets and eyes locked on the ground. Currently, Tweek Bros. attracted him most: Kyle remembered where the building was located, and coffee sounded like a great reward for the first day of work, be it fruitful or not. Didn't really matter, Kyle was fond of the rough drink. It reminded him of his former life, which he longed for.

There weren't many people wandering about on the streets, and the more Kyle walked, the fewer he met. He'd figured everyone was tired because unlike him, they'd actually done some serious work today. Someone's dog ran past him, and he saw plain disapproval on its face.

The phone came to life again. Kyle fished it out of his pocket and was glad to read Stan's name above the message.

 _[Cya after work tmr?]_

Heavy thoughts backpedaled. Of course. There was always tomorrow.

Kyle smiled and was about to begin typing back when a noise distracted him. His head shot up, and he looked around only to see unfamiliar walls towering over him from both sides - he must have taken a wrong turn somewhere. His eyes scanned the area for a possible source and found nothing but garbage cans and empty containers; whatever had made the noise, it was gone. Maybe a mouse. Or a cat.

He returned to the screen as his fingertips ran over the letters.

 _[Sure thing.]_

Kyle hit the _send_ button, nodded to himself and turned back to the area he knew. Less than a step later, he bumped into something huge.

"-oof!"

Something… or someone. Rubbing the back of his neck, Kyle glared up at the obstacle and met the eyes – he was positive about it being eyes – of an animal. A pig, to be precise. His breath hitched, and his hand fell back to his side, the realization of danger coming at him but not quite sinking in yet.

Two seconds weren't enough to send him running.

"What the- GAHH!"

He gasped as a firm hand gripped his hair and yanked him towards the sudden assaulter. Survival instinct kicked in, and Kyle tried to defend himself with everything he had - which was his arms and legs. Sadly, none of his studies back in Miami had included self-defense, and thus he wasn't much of a fighting type. Moreover, the person he was struggling against had an obvious advantage in both height and weight.

"LET GO!" Kyle shouted. His words went unnoticed.

Then he caught a glimpse of steel. Kyle's heart sank to his stomach, and he attempted to catch the attacker's hand before the weapon reached him - but he simply wasn't strong enough. With an excited yell, the pig person struck, and steel found its target… which turned out to be Kyle's hair. For a split second, an image of scissors flashed through fear, and then the attacker threw him towards the garbage cans. Kyle hit one with his back and slid down, pain surging through his nerves like a torrent.

Coughing erratic breaths out of his lungs, he rolled on his side and caught an eyeful of the pig person in the process: at the moment, they were busy examining the newly acquired piece of loot.

It was a man, no doubt about that. He was tall and thick and wore a mask – or maybe it was an actual head of a pig. Kyle wouldn't be surprised if that turned out to be true because not only this detail was standing out, there was also… more hair. _Red_ hair. Glued to the man's dark coat, to his gloves…. to his mask, too. If Kyle hadn't been scared shitless and hurting, he would've been looking for cameras.

He backed away carefully, trying to make as little noise as it was physically possible. Had to flee while the pig person's attention was consumed by the hair in his grasp. The man wasn't moving, not an inch, and the way he kept staring motionlessly sent goosebumps down Kyle's skin. He'd never thought of his hair as something majestic, but his attacker definitely had another opinion. Not that he was going to complain...

Kyle continued to crawl back and was almost reaching the corner when luck turned its back on him again. Suddenly, the pig person came back to his senses and spun around, spotting Kyle with a horrifying yell. He dashed forward, and Kyle sprang to his feet, voice rushing through his throat in a desperate scream. He didn't make it far: the attacker caught his elbow and instantly brought a hand up to deliver another strike.

"Jesus Christ-!"

It didn't come through. Kyle felt an impact but wasn't the one who received it. His attacker, on the other hand, staggered and then tumbled to the ground with a stiff grunt; meaty fingers slid down Kyle's elbow, and he shuddered in disgust.

"…you alright?" an unnaturally low voice reached his ears.

"Yeah..."

That was it; someone must have heard him crying out for help and came to the rescue. Broken relief washed over Kyle, and he turned around, taking deep breaths and ready to face his savior. When he saw who it was, however, the urge to search for the cameras returned full-force.

"What the…"

He didn't know what he'd been expecting to see after meeting the pig person, but… it definitely wasn't this. He wasn't expecting to be saved by some weirdo who'd messed up his clothing order. The man in front of him was wearing a dark purple cape and a mask, and those were the only normal parts of his costume. Never before had Kyle seen anyone wearing pants under their underwear.

The most important thing, however, was that despite being thinner and smaller than the pig person, this man managed to take him down. The attacker was lying flat on the ground, without moving, and that could only mean one thing: the underpants guy was actually pretty tough.

"You need to get out of here," he rasped, pulling a roll of duct tape out of the bag that was attached to his belt.

Kyle hesitated at first, but was about to follow the command when the guy noticed the lack of movement from his side and decided to steal a glance at him. Their eyes locked, and both froze on their spots. For some reason, Kyle felt shivers running down his spine again; the guy looked indescribably ridiculous in his superhero outfit, yet the air around him was charged with some kind of mystical energy that made it difficult to look away. Kyle felt his lips go dry, licked them on instinct. The caped man shuddered.

"Run," he grunted. " _Now_."

That was all he managed to say before the attacker stirred and started to rise again, his hands barely put together by the tape. Kyle didn't need to be told thrice and bolted out of the narrow alley, leaving his hero to deal with the pig person while he called the police. Even with his mysterious appearance and precise punches, the caped guy wouldn't be able to hold the attacker down for long. It was a matter of minutes before he got crushed.

A gunshot rang through the night air when he was dialing; Kyle nearly jumped out of his skin. He tripped over his own feet and barely managed to catch balance.

"Police department," a tired voice muttered into his ear.

"There's an emergency! Please, I need help!" he hissed at the phone, his voice shivering. Gunshots were never a good sign. "I'm… I'm at…" Kyle had no idea where he was. He slowed down and looked around, searching for anything that would help specifying his location. Tweek Bros. was nowhere in sight, and the street he was currently on only had houses and gardens at its disposal. A few people showed up at their windows, attracted by the shot.

"Where are you?" the dispatcher pushed.

"I- I…" Of course. House numbers. Kyle willed himself to calm down and named the closest buildings. It seemed to be enough.

"What is your name?"

"Kyle."

"Okay. A gunshot was reported in the area, can you tell me what's going on?"

"Yeah, I… I walked into an alley, and that guy attacked me. He's wearing a pig mask, I think, and he's armed with a knife, or scissors- or whatever… and a gun, apparently. Another guy helped me escape, and… I don't what's going on in there. They're fighting, or… were fighting... God damn it, can you just send someone here, please?"

"The police are already on their way, Kyle," the dispatcher answered. He sounded indifferent, as if Kyle was trying to sell him a religious brochure or some shit. "I need you to stay on the line in case anything happens. You said someone helped you escape. Are you safe?"

Kyle could still see the alley from where he was standing. "I don't know. I think I should…"

 _Get out of here._

"…get out of here." Squeezing the phone, he leaned onto a dead light pole for support. His knees felt weak.

"Hold on. There should be a police car nearby. Do you see it?" the dispatcher asked.

Kyle squinted his eyes, searching the darkness for a working vehicle.

"No, I... Wait." He was about to give a negative when a movement further down the road caught his eye. There it was, a lonely patrol car he'd been waiting for. It must have been somewhere close when he'd reached the dispatcher. "Yes, I can see it."

"Good. Now, I must ask you to remain where you are and listen to the officers. Everything is going to be alright, Kyle," the voice on the other end promised lazily.

"Yeah, I… thank you," he said.

He really hoped they weren't too late.

* * *

The night was impossibly long. By the time the interview ended, Kyle felt like an overused sponge that had served its last purpose ages ago and was finally thrown to its resting place among other pieces of garbage. He was exhausted, scared now that the adrenaline rush had faded, and couldn't recognize his own reflection. He'd barely moved in to South Park, and some sick freak had already taken a fancy to him.

Said freak, by the way, had vanished into thin air together with the guy that had saved Kyle from his dreadful fate. It was unclear who'd shot whom: no blood had been found in the area, no bullets, no nothing. The police returned to the department empty-handed (except for Kyle, their only witness. They unleashed all hell upon him in the interrogation room).

Kyle wasn't sure he'd be able to sleep tonight. There were only two things that kept his inner alarm from bursting: the underwear guy and, surprisingly, Stan. Both were unreachable. Well, Kyle supposed he could call Stan, but the clock showed well past midnight, and he was probably fast asleep next to his girlfriend. As much as Kyle wanted company, he couldn't bring himself to alert his friend when he knew he could handle the situation on his own.

…especially with his parents practically losing it at home. Kyle's mother was hugging the living soul out of him as soon as he crossed the doorstep, and Gerald just wouldn't leave his son's driver alone. It took an hour to get past them and into the silent darkness of his room, and even then Kyle didn't feel better. His entire body was trembling, and his brain produced hundreds of images per minute. Most of them stood out for their gruesomeness, and some featured his savior. Both he and the pig person had walked straight out of a horror comedy show; if someone else had been the victim and told Kyle about it, he would've had trouble believing.

Pictures and thoughts kept him awake through the bigger part of the night. Kyle couldn't help turning under the blanket; he felt the need to sleep but was unable to grasp it. Faintest noises claimed his attention, be it a lonely bark of a street dog or the constant ticking of clock coming from his bedside table. Unconsciousness opened its embrace only when the first rays of sun peaked over the mountains, and Kyle was more than willing to accept the invitation. Gerald had ordered him to stay at home and recover, so he'd have to do that.

At about seven in the morning, Sheila opened the door to her son's room as noiselessly as she could, checked if he was doing okay and then left without waking him up. Exactly two minutes later, a soft click disturbed the stillness, and the only window in the room slid open. Kyle shifted under the blanket and pulled it up to cover his bare shoulders, but that was all he did.

A lithe figure climbed in, moving quietly, stealthily into the warmth of his safe place. The dark purple cape was wrapped around the intruder's middle to allow better mobility, but that didn't prevent him from disturbing a baseball bat that was resting under the window. He barely got it with his foot.

Once the man was inside, he straightened and crept towards the bed – there lay Kyle, oblivious to the world outside his deep slumber. The caped man sighed, and for a long time he couldn't tear his eyes away from the fire of Kyle's hair, or his skin, cool from the air that he'd just let in. Kyle shivered, pulled the blanket even higher, and the man felt the shiver spreading until it reached him too, seeping through the layers of his clothes. He could hear Kyle's peaceful breath, and blood was pulsing in his temples like mad.

"What the actual fuck…?" he whispered, bringing up a reluctant hand. He took off his glove and then slowly, _very slowly_ , as if the wrong move could kill, pressed a finger to Kyle's cheek.

He withdrew it immediately. Kyle didn't respond to the touch, must have missed it entirely, which had been expected. His visitor, however, winced and stumbled back with the grace of an elephant, almost hitting a wardrobe with his leg. Luckily for him, his hand reached the obstacle first and prevented him from producing more sounds. The man pressed himself to the wall, watching the sleeping form with wide eyes.

 _No way,_ he mouthed. _This can't be happening._

* * *

 _"You. Should have called me."_

Kyle cringed, rolling on his side. The bed creaked in protest. "Dude, it was past midnight! Besides, you were with Wendy. How could I take that away from you?"

 _"Simply!"_ his friend growled. _"You should have taken your phone, found my contact number and called me! Hey, Stan, someone followed me into a dark alley and tried to bash my head open!"_

"Stan-"

 _"Dude. Seriously. I hope there won't ever be a second time, but if something does happen to you, promise you'll give me a call."_

Kyle sighed; he couldn't struggle against such an enormous amount of concern. He had no idea why Stan cared so much, they'd only known each other for a mere couple of days. But he supposed it was fair – back at the police department he'd wanted to see Stan too, even before his parents. "Alright. You'll be the first one to know. Or the second one."

 _"Huh?"_

"There was that weirdo in a cape," Kyle explained, playing with a corner of the blanket. "He saved me."

The line fell silent for a few moments. When Stan responded, his voice sounded slightly lower than usual. _"A weirdo in a cape?"_ he repeated. _"You mean Mysterion?"_

Kyle blinked. "You've got to be kidding me. Is he your local superhero or something?"

 _"Uh… you could say that. Hold on a second."_ Stan pressed his palm to the phone if the soft sound that followed his words was any indicator. Kyle could hear him talking to someone, but his voice was too muffled to understand. Half a minute later, Stan spoke to him again. _"Kyle, are you feeling good enough for a walk?"_

"I think so. Why?"

 _"Remember when I wanted to check that new coffee shop in the mall?"_

Kyle snorted, sitting up. Sure thing he remembered. "Yeah. Wanna discuss this Mysterion guy over a cup of coffee?"

 _"Uh huh. Get dressed and meet me downstairs in ten."_

"Got it."

Stan hung up, and Kyle tossed his phone aside with a small smile. He stretched, and it was unbelievable how much benefit could be taken from several hours of sleep. He still worried about the pig person and still wondered why his savior chose to wear underwear in a way that would make everyone see it, but busying himself with just that wasn't healthy. Stan was right, he needed a distraction, and now Kyle could use this excuse to not only think about those things on his own but also drown his friend in them.

"Good morning, Kyle, dear," his mother greeted him when he appeared in the living room nine minutes later. Sheila examined her son from head to toe and nodded in approval. "I see you're feeling better. And about to head out?"

"Stan suggested going to the mall," he said, grabbing his coat from the rack and putting it on. "I'm gonna eat there. Do you want anything?"

"I want you to have a good time."

Kyle smiled. "Thanks, mom. I will."

After buttoning every button there was, he went to the mirror and fought bravely to flatten his disobedient hair. Force of habit, he supposed; he was planning to wear a hat today. Of course, Kyle was nowhere near done when a knock interfered - still, he deserted and hurried to the door, and Stan was waiting on the other side just like he'd promised.

"Hey," He said, then raised his voice to greet Kyle's mother. "Good morning!"

"Good morning, Stan!" she greeted him back.

Kyle grabbed a green ushanka hat from the rack – he'd bought it during his first day at the town, thinking it would look nice on him. When he saw himself in the mirror back at home, his opinion changed, but he let the hat be.

He put it on, and Stan lifted an eyebrow. "Dude. Nice."

Kyle laughed. "Shut up. I've been attacked by a pig-faced man and saved by Mr. Super-Underpants. You are wearing a silly hat as well. I need to fit in."

"I'm gonna be a good dear and only and pretend I didn't hear you comparing me to those two."

Kyle shook his head, waived to his mother and then joined Stan outside. It was a little colder than yesterday, and wind attacked his face right away.

"It's still showing," Stan muttered, pointing at a red curl.

Kyle shrugged. "Better than nothing."

The walk to the mall wasn't very long, but it definitely was enlightening. Kyle kept his mouth shut about Mysterion, saving the subject for coffee, and Stan took the opportunity to continue his role as the guide and acquainted his friend with everything they came across. By the time they reached their destination point, Kyle felt like he'd been living in South Park since his birth.

"Here we are," Stan announced, facing away from the building and drawing a huge bow in the air with his hand. Like he was introducing Kyle to a whole new world or something. "Now let's burn that poor excuse for a coffee shop to the ground."

"Aye, sir!"

They directed their feet to the glass doors, and Kyle couldn't help scratching his hat: despite it being Tuesday morning, there were a lot of people around. That made him realize that Stan should have been working too, but here he was, babysitting his miserable friend instead. Probably took a day off.

"Is your uncle okay with you being here?" Kyle asked.

"It's no problem."

The mall was even busier on the inside: people roamed about the giant hall, countless bags hitting them both at every opportunity. A bunch of kids ran past them and towards the escalators in the center, shouting cheerfully and pushing the adults aside without noticing it. Obviously skipping classes. All this lively chaos actually reminded Kyle of the crowds and busy streets back in Miami. In fact, it reminded him of his former habitat so much that for a second he forgot where he was standing.

He flinched when Stan nudged him towards the elevators, but followed without reluctance. They mixed with the horde at the bottom of the stairway that was going up, and Kyle eyed the vast variety of colorful ads that were plastered all over the place save for the shop entrances.

… _only you_

 _can make all this world seem right…_

Stan walked onto the moving stairs first.

"You know, I might be considering visiting your shop." Kyle took the spot next to his friend and clutched the handrail. Stan nodded absently.

… _only you_

 _can make the darkness bright…_

"Honestly, I've been thinking about that too. But you'll have to learn how to use it." Stan wasn't against him carrying a weapon, that was good news. Kyle appreciated that.

Someone turned the music volume up.

 _Only you and you alone_

 _can thrill me like you do_

"Thanks, dude," he said. "Yesterday was insane. I'm struggling to keep it cool, and you're helping me a lot. South Park may have its uh… guardian angel, but I doubt he'll be watching over me all the time. I need to be able to stand for myself, and the only way I can- _what the fuck?_ "

A horde of goosebumps rushed over Kyle's skin, following the soft touch that was sliding from his elbow to his wrist. The touch lingered there, and he barely managed to register it before the warmth disappeared. Kyle frowned and raised his eyes, and there, on the escalator that carried its passengers back to the ground floor, stood a man. He was grinning.

 _And fill my heart with love_

 _for only you_

Time slowed down, and colors exploded all around them. Kyle's heart skipped a beat, his brain blacked out, and he just couldn't look away from that one person that was being carried away from him. The stranger didn't look away either, and his smile never wavered; he brought a hand up, ran his fingers through his perfectly straight blonde hair, and that made Kyle's stomach flip.

 _Only you can make_

 _all this change in me_

The air filled with sparkles, and a flock of white doves burst in through the glass doors. The birds flew up, feathers floating everywhere and landing on the floor, on people, on the stranger. Kyle felt his legs shaking, his knees giving out, and he grabbed Stan for support.

"Kyle? Kyle, dude, are you alright?"

 _For it's true,_

 _you are my destiny_

The orange parka the stranger was wearing had to be the damn best parka in the whole world. Kyle had seen lots of parkas, he knew he was correct. He would be so happy to touch it and-

"Kyle?!"

 _When you hold-_

The stranger stepped off of the stairway, and within a second the crowd devoured him. Immediately, music lost its volume, colors returned to their borders, and birds evaporated, leaving no traces behind. The mall was its normal self again. Kyle blinked a few times, lifted his head and stared at Stan who'd apparently dragged him away from the escalator and was still holding him, worry clear on his face.

"Are you alright?" he repeated, and it took a moment for Kyle to process what was going on. He straightened up and released Stan from his clutch, ignoring the question completely.

"What the fuck was _that_?"

* * *

Song: Only You by The Platters


	2. Chapter 2

Kyle couldn't say he was unpopular when it came to being noticed, and he couldn't say he was unfamiliar with the whole butterflies-in-thy-stomach thing. He'd used to experience this feeling most during his studies - when he solved a particularly difficult problem or when it was his name that appeared on the list of whatever activity he'd succeeded in - but he could also name a few people who caused the same effect. Hallucinations, however, had never been part of love schematics unless the subject was insane, and Kyle was pretty sure he wasn't.

"Are you alright?" Stan asked him.

"What the fuck was that?" he blurted before his brain had the opportunity to catch up and hold back the profanity. Some people turned their heads towards them, curious about the outburst.

Stan's phone vibrated, but he ignored it.

"What are you talking about?" he asked. Kyle glared at him.

"Didn't you see what happened?!"

"All I saw was how he grabbed your hand." Somehow, Stan made it sound like nothing that big of a deal, which didn't soothe Kyle's confusion at all. "That's just harmless flirting, dude. We might be a small town, but we're not ancient. We've got two gay couples here-"

"That's not what I'm talking about," Kyle interrupted him, and Stan blinked.

"It's not?"

"No. I think I've just had a seizure."

Stan's eyes widened. "…oh."

"I'm fine, dude. Must be still recovering from the attack." Kyle sighed. "We should just go and grab some coffee."

"Agreed." His friend took off in the direction of a large oval sign that was attached to the wall further down the corridor. The sign was decorated by steaming white mugs and occasional cubes of sugar, and below it resided the entrance to the coffee shop. Through its glass walls a dozen of round tables and chairs could be seen, as well as the counter where several baristas were taking orders from their visitors. Potted plants and monochromatic photos added to the general look of the place, making it look cozy and welcoming.

Kyle threw one last glance back to the ground floor where the crowd was only expanding. Neither the stranger, nor his orange parka were anywhere to be seen.

"You coming?"

"Yeah."

They entered through the double doors and proceeded towards the shortest line. Kyle crossed his hands over his chest, studying the menu above while his mind was busy trying to figure out what was wrong with the residents of South Park. There was the pig person, the underpants guy, and now this parka stranger simply walked in and took the spot beside them, if not in front of them. Kyle couldn't help thinking about his bright eyes or his fair hair even through the layers of incredible stuff that should have taken way more of his concern that it had.

"Which one do you want?" Stan asked.

"Uuh… espresso is fine," he muttered. His friend nodded and didn't say anything else, must have understood Kyle was too absorbed in his thoughts.

Once the drinks were received, they found an empty table by a glass wall and settled facing each other. Kyle bit his lip and looked around just in case someone else was waiting for him to drop his defenses. An elderly woman on the other side of the room stared back at him, and that was all he got before he drew his eyes back to the table.

Maybe it wasn't him, maybe it was the town. Maybe South Park wasn't normal, maybe it was one of those towns from the books, a place separated from the rest of the world and open to inexplicable wonders. Kyle didn't really believe in wonders, but he was low on resources here.

Stan sighed.

"Sooo. How's your sex life?"

"Stan." Kyle glanced at him, missing the question. "Is it just me, or is this entire town completely fucked up?"

"Dunno. It's been like this since we went to the elementary school." Stan moved his cup of coffee closer and took a little sip. He frowned. "Damn. It's better than I thought."

Kyle didn't seem interested, so his friend attempted to lighten up the mood again.

"Soooo... That pig person you told me about. He still on the loose?" He couldn't come up with a better question.

"Yeah. No traces of him or your "Mysterion". I've got no idea what happened in there after I left. One of them might have killed the other and then dragged him away, but the police found nothing. I mean, if someone got shot, there'd be blood, right?"

Kyle dropped his eyes to the remains of his espresso. In all honesty, he avoided sticking to any of his assumptions until he saw Mysterion's dead body. The pig person, though… he was very huge and powerful. Even if the bullet had been addressed to him, he could've still easily overthrown the hero.

Worry must have reflected on his face. Stan hurried to speak again.

"Maybe the shooter missed. At least Mysterion is okay; someone spotted him by the garages this morning."

Kyle's head jerked up, his eyes wide. "Really?"

"Yeah. From what I heard, he's not even injured. Kept parkouring around like he usually does when he's not saving random people. Don't worry, dude. This town may seem a little crazy, but problems usually get solved by the end of the season."

"Oh… oh," was all Kyle managed to say. Relief surged out of his lungs with a long breath, and his shoulders relaxed. Even his coffee tasted better. "Good. He may still save me, then. You never know when your fans might decide to force themselves on you."

They stayed in the coffee shop for a while longer and ordered a few more drinks, chatting about this and that. Little by little, things were getting back to normal; Kyle even asked Stan about his first date with Wendy. Stan coughed once at that, awkwardly, then tilted his head and offered Kyle a shy smile, saying he felt so strong about her he couldn't keep his insides in order. He didn't mention any doves or sparkles though, which only made Kyle certain that true love had nothing to do with them.

* * *

The rest of the mall trip went quietly, Kyle didn't see any orange parkas when he and Stan were making it down to the ground floor. The poor escalator threatened to collapse under the relentless human invasion, though, and he found himself pressed flat to several strangers who in their turn were pressed to a few more - the entire thing reminded him of sealed tuna cans. Stan even stepped on someone's foot and couldn't apologize properly because he had no clue who it belonged to.

They parted in front of Kyle's house. Despite all objections, Stan saw him to the very doorstep and then took off to Jumbo's gun shop, promising to call later. As Kyle was entering the living room, he wished he'd been able to enjoy the wonders of working too and even contemplated defying Gerald's instructions and showing up at the office uninvited. Alas, his mother roped him in for insignificant chores, stating that she knew him all too well and wouldn't let him damage his recovery with unnecessary labor.

The main topic of the evening, however, was Kyle's damaged haircut. Sheila didn't like how it looked after its date with the pig person's weapon and insisted on having them cut further. Hairdressers had always been a nightmare for both Kyle and his unruly hair: for Kyle, because he rarely got what he wanted (hairdressers tended to get carried away with such fields of opportunity), and for his hair, because it ended up ruined more often than not. Still, it was better than letting Sheila have her way with it, so he agreed to contact the local salon and make an appointment for the next morning.

He spent the evening watching movies in his room and had to permanently pause the last one due to the shouting that yet again rose from beyond the railroad. It wasn't loud, but it was present, and that was enough to constantly distract Kyle from the screen. With a sigh, he turned off the lights and closed the window, reducing the noise to its minimum, then went to bed. The shouting ceased while he was asleep, and yet he woke up once, the dream he'd been having disturbed by muffled rap music in the distance and a shadow Kyle thought he'd seen flashing outside. Logic calmed his rising alarm, though, telling him that the pig person was way too fat to climb all the way up to his window.

Then Wednesday came. Kyle had to admit that despite feeling skeptical towards the inevitable, he was ready to say goodbye to his rich haircut. He didn't feel safe with it anymore; it had attracted the pig person once, and nobody could guarantee that wouldn't happen again. If Kyle looked like everyone else in South Park, maybe his chances of getting jumped at would decrease - at least that was what he kept telling himself as he watched his red curls fall to the floor like overweighed petals. The more they fell, the stranger he felt until the process was suddenly over and he was staring at himself in the mirror.

"Looks freakin' awesome, right?" the hairdresser girl asked, wiping the scissors clean, and Kyle couldn't confirm or deny the statement simply because he wasn't used to seeing his hair this short. His fingers didn't disappear in it completely when he combed them through it, and when he put his green ushanka on, it felt a whole size bigger. Nothing was sticking out anymore.

"I guess. Thank you," he answered politely.

As he was leaving the salon and about to head towards his father's office, tempted to get some work done at last, his phone signaled an incoming call. Kyle quickly grabbed the device – it was about time Gerald called him – and was almost hitting the green button when he realized the number didn't match. Pressing the phone to his ear, Kyle frowned.

"Hello?"

 _"Police department,"_ a voice he didn't recognize said. _"Is this Kyle Broflovski?"_

Kyle's frown deepened into a scowl. "Yes."

 _"We need you to come to the station,"_ the voice announced. _"For further questioning."_

It looked like Kyle's law practice had taken a couple of lessons from The Road Runner. But even with his plans crushed like that, he wasn't as disappointed as he could have been - possibly because it was the police who were tearing him away from work. Perhaps they had found some new lead that was pushing them towards the pig person now, and if that was the case, Kyle would only be happy to aid them in their task.

"I'm on my way," he said, and turned on his heel: the police department was located in the opposite direction from the office.

He tried to reach his father while he was walking down the street - to tell him he'd be late today – but no one picked up, Gerald must have put his phone on mute. Kyle rolled his eyes at the incompetence and returned to the contact list, scrolling down till he found Stan's name. His friend had asked him to call if something serious happened, and Kyle suspected another questioning counted. He didn't call though, just typed a message because there wasn't anything grand to report yet.

 _[I'm heading to the police station for another questioning.]_

Stan didn't take long to answer.

 _[Do u need me to come?]_

 _[No, just saying. I'll call you when it's over.]_

 _[Ok. Gl]_

 _[Thanks.]_

As much as Kyle was willing to help the potential investigation, he hoped the interview wouldn't take the same amount of his time and nerves like the previous one had. He didn't count on it too much, though: the police wouldn't have summoned him without a heavy reason, and if it had taken nearly two hours with Kyle as the sole connection, god knew how precise and detailed they would want him to be now.

Fifteen minutes later the large brick building finally appeared in his view, and the first thing Kyle noticed was the lack of police cars on the department's parking lot. It wasn't like South Park had a lot of them to begin with, but he clearly remembered there being more during the tour Stan had arranged for him days ago.

Second thing he saw was two officers bursting through the double doors. Another man followed them out in a hurry: he looked a lot like an officer himself but was wearing a blue chullo hat instead of a formal one. After a brief moment of staring, Kyle recognized him as Craig Tucker, one of Stan's childhood friends. Stan had mentioned both him and his favorite hat back at the coffee shop when they were discussing Tweek Bros., and apparently, he and the youngest of its owners (whose name was, surprisingly, Tweek) had been a thing since elementary school.

Craig appeared to be distressed even through the carefully neutral expression he was keeping on his face. Kyle supposed it had to do with the missing vehicles and maybe the pig person as well, but it wasn't like he could just stop the man and ask him about it – he'd need to go to the interrogation room. So he let Craig be and strolled towards the entrance.

The building was mostly empty when Kyle entered, but they had been expecting him, so he didn't have to wait an eternity to be escorted. An officer led him to the same room he'd been in before and told him a detective would be arriving soon. Kyle responded with a nod and took one of the two empty chairs, eyeing the glass on the wall to his right – beyond it was the camera that he knew would be filming the progress.

The detective came ten or so minutes later, holding a thick paper folder and a steaming mug of coffee in his hands. Kyle couldn't keep his eyebrows from rising: he'd been picturing someone smaller, he guessed. The man that appeared in the doorway was really big and kind of fat, almost like the pig person but not quite. There was also something off-putting about the way he carried himself, and Kyle couldn't put his finger on it. Maybe the reason was hiding in the overly serious expression the detective was wearing, or maybe it resided in his actions. When the man dropped the folder to the table, his face suggested that interviews as well as interrogations were part of his daily routine, yet somehow Kyle doubted that. The mug remained in the man's other hand as he sat down and crossed his legs, facing the witness only partially. Kyle tilted his head as the detective stated the date and opened the folder with his free hand before putting the latter on the back of his chair.

"Eric Cartman," he introduced himself. "Lead detective on the ManPig case. State your full name."

"Kyle Broflovski," Kyle provided, wondering if it was him who'd come up with the case name.

"So, Mr. Broflovski," the detective continued, burning two holes in his skull, "why don't you start from the beginning?"

Kyle did all he could not to cringe at the voice. He suddenly understood why it was that he disliked the man: it was in his behavior, his manner of talking. Using them, he attempted to show that not only was he used to dealing with countless witnesses and suspects, he was also used to cracking cases like nuts. A perfect detective, like in some tv-series.

"It was Monday. I decided to take a walk around the neighborhood after work, at about nine in the evening." Kyle spoke evenly, never looking away. "I have been living in South Park for less than a week, so I don't know the street names very well. I walked into an alley at some point, and that person attacked me as soon as he saw me." As the story flew, he felt less and less intimidated by the detective's appearance. "He was wearing a pig mask and a coat, and everything was covered with pieces of red hair. He was also armed with a knife- or a pair of scissors, I didn't have much time to look."

The detective didn't seem awfully surprised by the description of the attacker's costume. He'd definitely heard this story before.

"He cut off some of my hair and then threw me at the garbage cans. I tried to retreat while he was busy staring at what he'd gotten, but he noticed. He then grabbed my elbow and was about to strike when a caped man knocked him out." Kyle halted his monologue for a second to remember the encounter, and when he spoke again, he sounded a little softer. "He saved my life and gave me time to escape. I don't know what happened after I ran away... There was a gunshot, but it I didn't see who made it. You know the rest."

The detective nodded and took a sip from the mug. "Can you describe the caped man?"

Kyle swallowed the lump that was forming rapidly in his throat. He wasn't a big fan of lying but didn't want to name his savior, either. Mysterion obviously considered himself a hero, but for the police he was no more than a vigilante, and vigilantism was easily punishable. "Not really," he answered. "It was dark in there, I was scared, and I only saw the cape. It could have been anyone."

"I see." A small smile crept on the detective's face, and Kyle was absolutely certain he knew who exactly they were talking about. The man didn't push it, though. "What about the time before the attack? What were you doing? Did you notice anything unusual?"

"I was simply walking around, and no, I didn't see anything unusual. The attacker caught me off guard."

"Alright." The detective moved the folder closer, looking through its contents. "So… Mr. Broflovski. You mentioned you've moved in recently. Can I ask you why?"

"Uh… Our family was experiencing financial difficulties," Kyle answered reluctantly. The previous list of questions didn't include this. "We used to live in Miami before. My father and I are lawyers, and there aren't enough clients in the main office these days. That's why we moved to South Park."

"This file here states that you belong to a Jewish family, though," the detective objected, looking up at him with piercing eyes. "How can a Jewish family experience financial difficulties, Kyle?"

It wasn't the name that rubbed the wrong way, it was the question. Kyle felt his blood boiling as false innocence crawled into his ears along with the words.

"Does it matter?" he asked coldly.

"It does, in fact," Cartman answered. "Everyone knows that Jews are married to their money, and poverty is a sin to them. That is why they control the government and put all income into their bottomless pockets… you know. You are a Jew, after all."

Kyle gaped at him openly. "Excuse me? What the f-what are you saying?"

"It is hard to believe that you were experiencing financial problems," the detective said, rising from his chair, "but I believe you, Mr. Broflovski. Let us continue, then."

He began walking back and forth in front of the witness. Some part of Kyle suggested that the Jew statement had been an unfortunate joke attempt, but his anger wasn't easy to suppress. His fingers clenched into fists, and he hid them under the table.

"I'm going to ask you a very serious question now," Cartman went on. "Were you drunk that night?"

"I- no! I was working!"

"Smoking, perhaps?"

"No!" Kyle fumed. "If you're trying to say that I'm making all of this up – no, I am not! I was there, and that freak was there, and the goddamn gunshot was reported!"

"Calm down, Mr. Broflovski," Cartman repeated. His politeness seemed so intentional it was absurd. "Asking these questions is my job." He approached the table again and pressed his broad thigh to its edge. "Now. What were you wearing?"

Kyle blinked, confused by the question but already sensing a catch. "Is that even relevant?"

"Answer the question, please."

The detective pressed a hand to his mouth, hiding a yawn, and then brought the mug to his lips. He devoured the drink greedily, as if it was the only fuel that could keep him awake right now.

"I was wearing my suit. And my coat." Kyle narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

"Are you certain?"

"Yes… Why wouldn't I be?"

Cartman sighed and looked away from him, watching the glass. "It's just that…"He glanced back over his shoulder, "…the hair part doesn't sound quite right. If I were a criminal, I would never want yours."

Kyle lifted an eyebrow.

"That is why I asked about your clothes. Maybe they were a little too… provoking? Maybe you weren't dressed in a suit, Kyle? Maybe it was something more open, like… shorts… and a t-shirt?"

At that moment, Kyle clearly realized what was going on. The detective was making fun of him, not just interviewing. That had to be it. His lips trembled, and when he opened his mouth, the only word he managed to say was-

"What?!"

"Of course, I don't go around judging Jews. You can wear whatever you want! Your attacker, on the other hand, may be bearing dirtier thoughts."

"I wasn't wearing anything like that!" Kyle almost shouted.

"Maybe you were showing off your wallet, then? Hundreds of little green papers? Could that be it, Kyle?"

Kyle sprang to his feet, bashing his hands against the table. "No! Goddamn it, you're enjoying this, aren't you!"

Cartman pressed a hand to his chest, putting on the most hurt expression possible. "Perish the thought! I'm but a humble servant of law! I'm only doing my job, Mr. Broflovski."

"Well I can't help you anymore," Kyle hissed, turning to leave. "I've had enough of this."

"Hold on."

It was just two words, but his feet did stop. Kyle didn't know what it was that made him obey, but he was positive he'd leave if next thing Cartman said was an insult. "What is it."

The detective walked up to him and was about to place a hand on his shoulder, but Kyle stepped aside. Cartman's hand met thin air. That, however, didn't seem to bother him.

"I understand that you are scared, Kyle. You've been through a lot, and it's written all over your pretty Jewish face that you're a good guy." Kyle frowned. There was no way he was hearing this. "You want to help us track down your assaulter so that he won't hurt anyone else, ever. And that's a noble thing. My questions may sound offensive, but believe me, they are a necessity. We need to work together, Kyle, because we won't catch the bastard otherwise."

Kyle hated to admit it, but the detective had a point. Cartman was a complete and utter asshole, and his questions were crazy, but maybe he could swallow them and sit through the entire thing. That could actually help the police. Help Mysterion.

He let out a long breath and went back to the table. "Alright. I'll bite."

"Glad we've found common ground." The man followed him and took the remaining seat. "And now, Kyle, to the next question." Cartman laid his hands on the table, putting his fat fingers into a lock. "Have you ever worked as a prostitute?"

* * *

Kyle had always considered himself level-headed. He'd walked through the hallways of his elementary school where people didn't know the basics of walking slowly, sat through depressing nights before his final exams with hundreds of paragraphs melting into a muddy puddle, witnessed the downfall of his unborn career - all those disasters had unraveled and gnawed at him, but he'd never lost his temper, not even once.

Eric Cartman made him lose it within half an hour.

It wasn't just him losing his temper, too. Kyle was pretty sure he hated the man with all fibers of his Jewish soul (which, according to Cartman, was more of a myth than a real thing). He would never dare to repeat some of the questions he'd been asked in that tiny room. Compared to them, the topic of prostitution was harmless.

As Kyle was making his way outside and scaring normal people with his grim expression, Gerald finally blessed him with a call. He picked up right away, hoping to hear he was needed in the office – the day had been so horrible nothing sounded better than plain paperwork.

"Hi, dad. You need me?"

 _"Yes,"_ Gerald answered, and that word alone hushed Kyle's worries and even made him smile.

"What is it?" he wondered.

 _"Uh, Randy called me a few hours ago and said you and Stan went to the new coffee shop the other day."_ The smile fell as quickly as it had flourished. _"I was wondering if you could bring me some."_

Kyle stopped dead on his tracks.

"Really? That's why you're calling?" he muttered, pressing a palm to his forehead.

 _"Well, yeah,"_ Gerald confirmed. _"Randy told me it tasted real nice, and I'm all alone and exhausted here, son. A nice drink is never needless."_

"If you're exhausted, why don't you ask me to help you out?" Kyle asked tiredly.

 _"Because you need your rest."_ Gerald sounded like he was stating the obvious to a kid. _"I know about the interview, Kyle. You can come tomorrow if you're so eager to work, but right now I only need coffee. Can you bring it to me?"_

Kyle sighed. "Sure, dad. Whatever."

He hung up before Gerald would be able to say something equally frustrating and wandered off in the direction of the mall. His wristwatch showed half past two, and that meant the mall was even busier now than in the morning; he'd have to elbow through the crowd by the escalators and probably spend another half an hour standing in line with all the employees who were on their breaks. That, and the way back didn't look any less promising, hot coffee in his hands and all.

Then there was the stranger. Kyle doubted he'd run into the guy during such an hour, but some part of him insisted on holding his guard until he was safely out of the building. It wasn't that the stranger scared him, but the visual and sound effects that applied to his presence, however, were another story: Kyle didn't know how to deal with them, wasn't even sure how to explain them. Adding that terra incognita to his already bad day would do nothing but suffocate his barely breathing mood.

The mall met him with its constantly rotating doors and annoyingly loud chatter. Kyle looked around upon entering, and like he had expected, the giant hall was full of people who'd gotten off work and decided to grab a bite in the food court. The stirring crowd by the elevators reminded Kyle of meat pouring relentlessly into a grinder, and he probably made a mistake by thinking about that before joining them. He blended in and let the flow carry him towards the second floor.

The escalators were totally packed up, and he ended up pressed to a moving wall. Even without music thundering in his ears, Kyle still searched the visitors for familiar blonde hair and orange parka, but neither of those surfaced.

He proceeded towards the coffee shop when he was upstairs, and there were the lines, longer than he'd been hoping to see. The longest line almost reached the entrance of the nearest shop, and Kyle could only guess how poorly Tweek Bros. was doing.

Fifteen minutes later he stumbled out, cautious not to stand in the way of the other customers. Their number was only growing, and he couldn't get it why the damn thing was so popular. He'd tried the drink and it was good, but not _that_ good.

"Excuse me," he muttered, maneuvering towards the escalators. "Excuse me… goddamn it."

By the time he reached his destination, irritation levels were dangerously high. Kyle stepped on the escalator and was instantly pressed back to the wall - as it rubbed against his jeans, he prayed he wouldn't find one side of them darker than the other. God knew how many people made contact with that wall.

He couldn't understand what he'd done to deserve this. He'd been attacked and groped without his permission, had been through hell in the police department, had been forced to skip work, elbowed myriad times in the mall, and now this… He was amazed the coffee he'd bought was still secure in his hand and not burning on someone's face.

 _Ooh… my looove…_

He winced.

 _My darling…_

 _I've hungered for your touch…_

"Not this shit again…"

Kyle trembled, but not from the warmth that clutched him as fingers brushed over his knuckles. They slid up to his wrist and embraced it, and the hairs on his hand straightened - but that, too, wasn't because of the touch. Kyle squeezed the coffee cup and raised his head to meet the guy in the orange parka; the hood was down, and the stranger's eyes were bluer than the summer sky, his smile brighter than everything this world had to offer.

 _A long…_

 _lonely time…_

Angels were singing along with the music as the stranger's hand went up, his thumb playing with the sleeve of Kyle's coat. People around them ceased to exist, pushed away by the illusionary emptiness that didn't tolerate pesky intruders. Once again, there was nothing but the two of them.

The stranger leaned in, gently caressing Kyle's upper arm.

"'sup, babe," he murmured, and the sound of his voice punched Kyle both in his chest and his guts.

 _And time goes by_

 _So slowly…_

He saw red even through all the pink layers the fairy tale was throwing at him. He jerked his hand away and ignored someone's claim that followed.

"Don't touch me," Kyle demanded. "Ever. I don't know what your problem is, but I don't want to be part of it. We clear?"

 _And time_

 _Can do so much…_

The stranger flinched, and his smile faltered. He dropped his hand and just stood there, lost, while the escalator carried him up and away from Kyle. The music didn't disappear, and the angels literally continued to fly, throwing colorful confetti all around; Kyle's heart was fluttering, his thoughts gathering into one single desire to keep watching as his admirer left.

 _Are you_

 _Still mine?_

And even then Kyle was furious. He stomped down the stairs, forcing the invisible human obstacles out of his way. Desperate to get out of the mall. The doors hadn't been so far away before.

 _Lonely rivers flow to the sea, to the sea,_

 _To the open arms of the sea…_

"Shut up," he hissed, pressing his hands to his ears, but it was pointless. Somehow, the music was creating itself inside him now, making him the source. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!"

 _Lonely rivers sigh, wait for me, wait for me_

 _I'll be coming home, wait for me…_

He spun around, scanning people on the second floor, and there was the stranger, leaning on the fence. Their eyes locked, sad on angry, and Kyle backed away as the song picked up steam. One step, another, and then he was all but running, swearing he would never return to this cursed place.

* * *

Fortunately, the effects of their encounter were temporary this time as well. When Kyle reached the outside area, madness surrendered itself and fell silent. Kyle's legs were shaking, and his breath was erratic, but he felt better now that nothing was murdering his brain cells. From here, it was a matter of simple coffee delivering.

As he walked to the office, he realized that his eagerness to work was no longer there, and that realization didn't change when he entered the building and saw Gerald buried under documents. Without saying a word, Kyle placed the cup on his father's table and left, intending to lock himself in his room and watch movies till he passed out.

Fate had other plans, of course. When the night spread its dark blanket over South Park, people from the poor part of the town decided it was time to resume their shouting show. Kyle was drained, and thus no emotions appeared on his face as he stood up from the bed and approached the window.

He was about to close it when his eyes caught a movement by the railroad. It was barely visible, for the lamp post there was nearly dead, but he could definitely make out a figure walking towards the track and a twisting shadow clinging to its shoulders. A cape.

Kyle breathed in sharply as he watched Mysterion stop in the middle of the track. He thought the hero would cross it and go deal with the bastards in the poor area, but that was a poor guess. Mysterion sat down and slumped his shoulders instead, bathing in the never ending shouts and waiting for something. He just sat, and sat, and sat, and soon Kyle was done waiting with him.

He turned around and left his room.

* * *

Song: Unchained Melody by The Righteous Brothers


	3. Chapter 3

Just like Kyle's room, the rest of the house was submerged in darkness. The clock showed half past eleven, and his parents were sound asleep in their bedroom. Kyle moved to the stairs quietly, not to aid the outside shouting in waking them up: as much as he was angry at his father, Gerald had come home only a couple of hours ago, worn out like he'd been plowing a field instead of working in the office. He needed all hours of sleep he could get.

Kyle didn't bother to look for the switch: the phone screen was providing enough light for him to avoid sending himself down the stairway. He made it down to the living room and walked towards the rack where his coat was hanging. Kyle pulled it on and squatted to grab his boots, and as soon as they were on, the front door was open and he was out. Mysterion was still sitting on the railroad, leaning back on his arms and tipping his head so that he was facing the starry sky. Wind was assaulting his cape without remorse, and Kyle thought the hero had to be feeling really cold - but even if that was true, Mysterion didn't rush to stand up and leave.

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING, BITCH?"

"SHUT YOUR FUCKING FACE!"

He didn't seem to notice the shouting, either. In fact, he didn't even hear it when Kyle stepped into the dying light of the lamp post. So much for this town's defender, Kyle thought before he made his presence known.

"Hey," he greeted the caped form. Mysterion jumped on the spot, startled, and then rose to his feet in the clumsiest manner possible. Kyle couldn't begin to imagine how he'd managed to knock out the pig person.

"You shouldn't be out here," the hero stated, brushing off the invisible dust. His voice sounded strained. "The man that attacked you is still free."

"I know," Kyle agreed, but didn't listen to the advice and leaned to the lamp post instead. "They called me in for another interview this morning. Something must have happened, but they didn't tell me."

Mysterion didn't say anything to that, just straightened his back and allowed the cape to wrap around his body. Covered up like this, he actually appeared quite threatening, and Kyle had to remind himself about the guy's underwear.

"You don't want to tell me anything, do you?" he asked, and Mysterion pressed his lips into a thin line. "I'm part of this already."

"Maybe, maybe not. You may no longer have what he wants."

"What do you mean?"

The hero pointed at what had used to be a wild burning nest. "You cut your hair. A wise decision, though harmful to others."

"So he did find a new target," Kyle summed up. "Whose hair did he put his eye on this time?"

"What makes you think it's hair that he wants?" Mysterion asked in return, and Kyle raised an eyebrow at him. He could still remember how captivated the pig person was by his hair, how carefully he held it in his hand, his precious red relic. Kyle was pretty sure that if he hadn't interfered with his miserable attempt at running away, the man would have proposed to it.

"Well, that's obvious," he shrugged. "Thought you came to the same conclusion in that alley."

"I would have, if he hadn't kidnapped a bald person this time," Mysterion said.

"…what?" Kyle stared at him. What he'd just heard didn't make any sense. "No, I mean, like… he wears hair on his clothes and mask, and he tried to cut off mine. Why would he want something else?"

"Beats me. Maybe he saw your new haircut, and it traumatized him. Or maybe it's someone else operating… though I doubt it."

Mysterion must have understood Kyle had no intention of leaving because he sat back down and pressed his knees to his chest. How he didn't find the steel freezing, Kyle could only guess.

"YOU'RE FUCKING JOKING!"

"SHUT UP!"

"DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO, YOU STUPID FUCK!"

The hero threw a glance over his shoulder, eyeing the source of the noise.

"You should go home," he said a moment later, returning his attention to Kyle. "Leave it to me. Or the police. Whoever you prefer."

Kyle tore himself away from the lamp post and approached the track, showing that he was in no mood to be ordered around. Surprisingly, when he squatted next to Mysterion, the man shuffled away. Kyle looked at him with a mute question lingering on his tongue and was about to voice it when the man reached out and offered his hand to the seemingly empty space beside him.

"Uh… what are you doing?" Kyle asked. He didn't receive any verbal answer, but when the hero raised his hand, there was a small rat resting on his open palm. Mysterion held it like a pet, yet the rat looked ill and starving. Just as Kyle was thinking that, it bit a gloved finger.

"Dude! Drop it!" he demanded. "What if it's infectious?!"

"Don't worry about that," Mysterion brushed him off. "It's just checking."

"Checking what?!"

"Checking if I'm cold enough." The hero lowered his hand with a disturbing smile, and the rat left it, choosing to settle by his right foot. "Anyway, all you can do now is avoid going out at night and tell your mother to do the same. I'll continue searching, and so will the police. We'll find him eventually."

Kyle sat silent, watching the little creature. It wasn't interested in biting Mysterion's boot but kept sniffing around and bouncing its whiskers.

"There's a lot of them. They always come from the same direction."

He looked up just in time to see the hero point over his shoulder - towards the poor area. Kyle had figured that one out on his own already.

"YEAH, SURE, GO HIDE IN THERE!"

"STOP FUCKING FOLLOWING ME!"

"OH YEAH? HOW ABOUT YOU MAKE ME!"

"KENNY?! KENNY, WHERE ARE YOU?"

Mysterion brought his hands together and sighed. "Go home, Kyle. Really. You need your sleep, and I need to go on patrol."

Kyle didn't want to leave without learning the details of the kidnapping first, but he supposed that the hero had made up his mind and wouldn't let the wall crumble now. As if in confirmation, Mysterion rose again and stretched his hands up - the cape slid off of his shoulders, revealing the rest of his purple outfit. Kyle had to admit that despite its silliness he found it difficult to focus on something else, and the man had to have noticed his interest because when he returned the look, a smile ghosted around the corners of his mouth. His hand twitched as if he considered offering it, but in the end remained by his side.

"Go," Mysterion said, and started to walk away.

It took a lot from Kyle not to follow.

* * *

Thursday met Kyle with the annoying tune that always came hand in hand with seven thirty. Wide eyed, he jerked out of his dream, and his hand jumped to his right to shut down the alarm - more on its own accord than following his order. Kyle blinked a few times as reality dawned upon him, and then rolled to the edge of his bed. Sunlight glued itself to his back as he sat up.

The railroad encounter hadn't let him fall asleep easily. Mysterion kept surfacing in Kyle's mind even now as he made his way to the bathroom. Kyle couldn't understand what the man had forgotten on the track or why he'd been spacing out so fiercely anyone could have possibly killed him with a melee weapon. He'd approached Mysterion in order to find out what made the police so worried, and ended up feeling concerned about him instead.

The pig person case and the missing man still mattered, of course, but Kyle actually received one of desired answers during breakfast when Gerald passed him the fresh newspaper. Half of the front page was occupied by a huge photo of a bald man, whose name, according to the article, was Thomas Tucker.

"Oh." Kyle breathed out. Maybe that was why Craig had seemed so anxious back at the police station. He put down the paper, suddenly remembering what Mysterion had told him before leaving. "Uh. Mom? Can I ask you something?"

Sheila put a couple of pancakes on her plate and looked up at him. "What is it, Kyle?"

His mother wasn't that young anymore, and had to maintain her red color with the help of dyes, but maybe the pig person didn't care about that, and she was a potential target.

"Be careful, okay?" Kyle asked her. "Don't go out when it's dark. At least not until they catch him."

She smiled. "Of course. Now eat your food, it's almost time to go."

After breakfast Kyle pulled his ushanka on and left the house together with his father. He couldn't resist the urge to watch the lonely railroad while Gerald was starting the car; under the light of day and not the lamp post the same place looked completely different. That, and no one from the poor part of the neighborhood was screaming.

"Get in, son," Gerald called him. "We've got lots of work to do."

"Yeah, okay."

Within the next two days Kyle gradually got what he'd been craving for: feeling too much pressure on his backbone, Gerald shared more and more of his tasks until his son was dealing with a solid half of them. Turned out that even a town as small and friendly as South Park could sink in a vast variety of all-flavored complaints. Kyle lost the track of time, lived through Thursday and Friday without getting attacked or harassed, and both the police and the pig person had left him alone. Even the nights became quieter: someone must have had enough of the shouting shows and paid the actors a visit.

Thomas Tucker remained missing.

Saturday put Kyle's peaceful life on pause. During dinner, his father suggested paying a visit to the mall coffee shop on Sunday: Sheila hadn't tried the drink yet, and Gerald was adamant to get her acquainted with it. Reluctant as he was, Kyle happened to be the only one who wouldn't get lost in broad daylight, so he stepped over his promise to never come back and spent the entire way to the mall mentally preparing himself for the upcoming meeting.

His preparation went down the drain. The parka stranger didn't show up.

It was a good thing, Kyle thought as he led his parents to the coffee shop. His head was clear, and no side effects pursued him, not to mention he feared to even picture the encounter with his mother and father around. There still was the other escalator, of course, but somehow Kyle was positive he wouldn't meet his admirer at all. He didn't.

"The coffee was delicious," Sheila said as they were descending to the ground floor, and all he could do was praise his luck. He spent the day helping his mother with her bags and joined his father at the garage in the evening.

Another week started, and Kyle enjoyed the benefits of a normal life. The only thing that was making him feel uneasy, though subtly, was Mysterion's absence. It wasn't like Kyle was actively seeking him out or anything, but since the railroad conversation had taken place, it was kind of difficult not to look out of the window before bed time. The nights were serene, lacked the rage of the poor people, and the railroad lamp post was flickering on and off, promising to stop struggling soon... that was all Kyle saw.

Then happened the Tuesday newspaper. Another black and white photo was added to the front page – a photo of a woman with very short hair and a dirty looking shirt. The name read "Carol McCormick". The note that followed stated "most likely."

Kyle was about to read the details when his phone buzzed.

 _[Dude]_

It was Stan.

 _[Watch over ur mother. He's targeting red haired ppl]_

Before Kyle could answer, dots hopped under the received message, and soon another one popped up.

 _[Sick]_

Kyle began typing back.

 _[Craig's father is bald.]_

 _[Yeah but he had red hair before. U guys must have smth in common, and that's what the guy wants. I doubt we're talking just about hair]_

"Kyle, eat your toast," Sheila recommended from across the table. "It's getting cold."

"Yeah, I… give me a sec."

 _[So only the color matters?]_

 _[Yes. Btw, can we meet at Tweek's 2day?]_

Kyle nodded to his phone, earning two puzzled glances from his parents.

 _[Sure.]_

 _[Good. I'll pick u up after work. Don't go anywhere alone]_

Kyle wouldn't dream of doing that, not after what he'd just discovered. No text bubbles appeared anymore, and he supposed the conversation was over.

"Mom, dad." He put the phone down. "There's something important we need to discuss."

* * *

Stan showed up by the office at about seven in the evening.

The sun had already hidden itself behind the horizon line, and all objectives for the day were complete, but the ruthless union of work and concerns had taken its toll on Kyle: all he really wanted to do by now was to go home and fall flat on his bed. To forget about every single problem. Still, a promise was a promise, so he gathered himself and stood up.

"I'll keep an eye on your mother," Gerald said, waving to him once. "Be careful, son."

"I will."

Kyle waved in return and hurried downstairs to join his friend. The weather outside was chilly, and the wind almost made him shiver, but thankfully the ushanka was very effective at generating warmth. Kyle continued to wear it even though it didn't quite match the seriousness of his suit. That wasn't an unusual thing for South Park, he thought: Stan never parted with his puff-ball hat, Craig wore his chullo hat together with police uniform, and Mysterion had a question mark attached to his hood. Who was Kyle to break the custom?

"Hi, Stan," he greeted.

"Hi. Let's go."

Stan didn't feel like talking on the way to Tweek Bros., and Kyle refrained from asking questions despite being curious as to why his friend had chosen this place in particular. Instead, he spent the time looking around and watching houses and shops they were leaving behind. Fog was creeping down on the almost empty streets, devouring them – that reminded Kyle of the alley incident, but he knew that Stan was carrying a gun under his jacket, and that knowledge soothed him.

As they were reaching the building, Stan slowed the pace of his steps.

"There's someone I want you to meet," he said. "You may have seen him before, at the police station."

Kyle hummed. A quick guess formed in his head.

"Craig?"

"How'd you know?"

"I did see him at the station, you mentioned he's Tweek's boyfriend, and I assume it's his father who's missing."

"Oh."

When they entered, Tweek Bros. met them with bright lamps, round tables, relaxing music and absolutely no visible forms of life. Neither Kyle, nor Stan spotted Tweek by the counter: he must have gone through the "Employees Only" door.

"Let's pick a table," Kyle suggested.

It was still working hours in here, and though no customers were present, the coffee shop kept functioning at full capacity: the tables were clean, the napkins were perfectly white, the desserts were prepared. Kyle respected the amount of effort Tweek was putting into this, and he also felt a little sympathetic: Tweek Bros. didn't deserve what it was getting.

"Craig told me he'd be here," Stan muttered, watching the storage door suspiciously. "God, I hope they're not doing what I think they're doing."

"What do you mean?" Kyle asked, taking a seat by the window, and his friend tried to deliver the message through a meaningful stare. "I… oh. I see." Kyle coughed awkwardly.

Luckily, the door opened at the very same moment, and two men emerged from the storage room. Kyle recognized both: Craig still had his uniform on, and a few buttons on Tweek's shirt were messed up. He didn't twitch as much as he'd used to, though.

"Oh hi," he said, and even his voice sounded smoother. He went straight to the coffee machine. "I'll make you some coffee."

"Thanks for coming." Craig approached the table and shook Kyle's hand. "I'm Craig Tucker."

"Kyle Broflovski," Kyle presented himself, making a mental note that Craig's hand was bigger than his, and his fingers were colder. "You want to talk about the ManPig case?"

"Yes." Craig pulled an additional chair from another table and sat down between Stan and Kyle, facing the window. "I've read the reports, but I'm not satisfied with what we got."

Kyle remembered the humiliating torture and cringed. "Oh god... that detective. He was making fun of me, I'm sure."

"He's got a theory that all of ManPig's victims are Jews."

"What-?" Stan and Kyle groaned in unison.

"According to that theory, both my father and all McCormicks are Jews, which is total bullshit. I wanted to talk to you personally." Tweek brought a tray with three hot mugs, and Craig helped setting them down on the table before he went on. "I have a few questions of my own."

Kyle nodded. "Go ahead."

The officer fished a notebook out of his bag. A sharp pencil was sandwiched between the pages, and he took it.

"Is this your natural color?"

"Yes."

Craig began writing immediately. "You said that your assaulter had red hair glued to his outfit. Do you have any idea why?"

"Uh… because he's out of his mind?" Kyle suggested. He hadn't thought about that much. "He really loves red hair, that's all I can tell."

"Not just any red hair. Natural color," the officer corrected. "Did he do anything to you that might hint at what he does to his other targets?"

That was a tricky one. Craig didn't look much affected by the question he'd asked, but it _had_ to be gnawing at him. His own father was missing, after all. "Well… He threw me at the garbage cans, and it hurt. But I didn't see any blood on him. He just glues hair to his clothes."

"How much hair was there when he attacked you?"

"A lot. He was completely covered."

"You're our first victim here, though," Craig pointed out.

Dead silence followed.

"He could have come from another state, and maybe he even followed you specifically. Or maybe it's Cartman… Anyway, I will need a list of people you kept in touch with before and after you left Miami. Especially the ones you argued with and those who match the ManPig's profile."

"Got it."

"And a list of hairdressers you visited, plus the places where you had your hair cut. It is possible that you are not even acquainted with the person who attacked you."

"Nice." Stan drained the remains of his coffee, and no one could tell if he meant the drink or the way Craig's brain worked. Craig answered him anyway.

"I'm doing my job."

Craig started to rise from his seat, ready to finish with the questioning. Kyle's head chose the same moment to start giving birth to crazy, yet somehow logical ideas.

"Maybe it doesn't matter how much hair his targets have. Maybe he's just a psychopath who practices hair transplantation," he suggested.

Craig was physically stunned by the stupidity.

"That's ridiculous," he eventually said. "But not impossible."

"Ridiculous is this town's middle name." Stan waived to Tweek who was busy cleaning the windows. "Hey, Tweek, can I have another one?"

"Sure," the man answered, dropping the rag onto the closest table.

Craig stood up, showing that the conversation was almost over. "About Mysterion."

The name flew out of Craig's mouth, and all of Kyle's concentration centered on it instantly. "What about him?" he asked.

"I want you to describe your relationship and tell me if you met him after you were attacked. And when."

Kyle took a moment to think. "We don't have any relationship, but I met him once, yes. Wednesday night. He was sitting on a railroad track and spacing out. Didn't see me coming. We had a brief conversation about…" _your father_ "…the ManPig's choices."

"My father," Craig saw through the words.

"…yes." Kyle dropped his eyes to the table. "I haven't seen him since that talk… It's been a while."

Craig nodded. "That will be all for now." He tore a sheet of paper out of the notebook and scribbled something on it. "Here's my number. Call me if you notice something strange. And come see me at the station when you finish with the names."

"Alright."

He handed the paper over to Kyle, and for once Kyle felt like the case was breathing.

* * *

Craig and Tweek were a great couple to have around, Stan had said once. On their own they were unbearable: Craig was cold and indifferent towards the others and had an awful habit of flipping everyone off, and Tweek couldn't express himself properly because he was too nervous – moreover, he was constantly scared. Together, on the other hand, they were a far cry from that. It was like they had that natural ability to keep each other at bay, and with time they learned to use it.

Stan had also said that their relationship had an "out of the blue" beginning because neither of them had shown any signs of being gay right up to the spontaneous coming out. Some people still assumed they'd made it all up, but even if that had initially been the case, now they really had it on.

"It's good, I guess," Kyle said as he and his friend were walking back to their houses. "They look happy together. Happier than most people I know."

"Yeah. A blessing in disguise." Stan smiled.

They crossed the deserted playground and turned left: the familiar row of houses was already visible, but it was separated from them by a huge wooden fence that marked their properties. They'd have to go around it first.

"I think I know which gun you need," Stan suddenly changed the subject. "You're still thinking about getting one, aren't you?"

"Yeah." Kyle kicked a stone with the tip of his boot. "I don't know if he'll come after me again, but I want to be prepared for everything."

"Thought so. You're gonna need practice. I'll help."

"This weekend?"

"This weekend."

They rounded Kyle's backyard, and the railroad showed itself in all its unkempt glory. Kyle glanced at the lamp post out of habit while Stan looked beyond it, focusing on the rough edges of the old buildings. Neither of them talked for a second, each absorbed by their own thoughts. Then Kyle broke the silence.

"That woman who's missing. She's my neighbor, right?"

Stan let out a long breath. "Yeah. Try not to think about that, dude."

"Easy for you to say."

"Believe me, it's not."

They said their goodbyes at Kyle's doorstep, and from there Stan departed to Wendy's. It was almost past eleven when Kyle entered the living room, but he made it in time, and his parents let him go upstairs with peace. Kyle was exhausted beyond acceptable by the time he crawled into his room, so he didn't bother doing anything but pulling off his clothes and going directly to bed. His head hit the pillow, and sleep invaded him at once.

An hour later his eyes shot open. He stared at the ceiling.

Moonlight was bleeding through the window, drawing a thick pale stripe on the opposite wall. The house was blissfully quiet, and so was the street. Perfect stillness.

The coffee Kyle had consumed at Tweek Bros. really wanted out.

He groaned and rolled off of the bed, standing up and swaying - he was still overwhelmingly tired. His legs didn't listen to him very well, but it only took a few minutes to go out and return. Kyle stumbled back to his bed, lay down on it and closed his eyes again.

 _No,_ he thought after a moment. _The light needs to go._

He stood up with another groan and made it to the window. Kyle didn't have anything against moonlight, even preferred it to darkness sometimes, but the idea of having his unconscious self exposed to South Park made him feel insecure, to say the least. He was about to close the curtains when his eyes caught a movement on the road. It wasn't Mysterion - in fact, it was a lot smaller and quicker, and Kyle would have brushed it off if it hadn't repeated itself before he was able to. He squinted his eyes, and when the movement flashed again, he understood what he was looking at. Rats. Lots of them.

He watched as their number grew; they were running in the same direction one after another and seemed to be in a hurry. Kyle drummed his fingers on the windowsill and then darted away abruptly, grabbing his jeans from the top of the wardrobe. He almost fell down while he was pulling them on but managed to grab the doorframe in time. Last thing he wanted to do was to wake his parents up.

He hadn't seen Mysterion, but the hero had to be somewhere nearby if the rats were any indicator. Kyle clearly remembered how one of them had bitten the man's finger, and he dreaded to imagine what such a horde could be capable of. He tore his coat away from the rack, slid his bare feet into wrong boots and ran out, rushing after the rodents.

He didn't have to make it far: the race ended on the playground. There, right in the middle of the basketball court and surrounded by a menacing crowd of rats, sat Mysterion. His cape was torn, and his side and shoulder were bleeding; the hand he was pressing to his ribs was covered in red too. The man hadn't noticed Kyle yet, probably due to the danger that was slowly getting to him.

"Go back!" he rasped in a voice that sounded a lot like fear. "I'm not dead yet!"

But the rodents continued to narrow the circle, and Kyle realized that the situation was actually pretty bad. Possibly lethal. Mysterion was at a plain disadvantage, and his time was running out - Kyle had to think of a way to help him, and fast. Throwing himself at the rats would be stupid, not to mention it would kill him as well, so he'd have to find a distraction. He looked around and found the playground empty; the closest building to the court was a public toilet.

"Kyle! What the hell are you doing there?! Run!" Mysterion shouted, noticing him at last. Kyle didn't listen to him, though, and instead dashed towards the toilet: there had to be something useful in there. A mop, perhaps. He rounded the court and threw the door to the boys' room open – sadly, it only had dirty walls and a horrible smell at its disposal. Kyle tried the girls' room next, and found it locked: he didn't have any time to waste, so he bashed it open with his foot.

Somewhere behind him a disturbing infinity of squeaks blended with Mysterion's horrified yell. The attack had begun.

"Fuck off!"

Kyle flipped the light switch, and the room blinded him with an eternity of pink wallpapers it had glued to its walls. The man blinked rapidly, taking in the surroundings and diligently ignoring the insane amount of celebrity posters and weird furniture – whatever this place was, it was no toilet. His eyes fell upon a fire extinguisher attached to the farthest wall, and he decided that was the weapon he needed. Kyle ripped it off and bolted back to the playground.

What he saw there made his insides twist. Mysterion was barely visible under the disgusting pile of rodents, and he was thrashing around on the ground, attempting to throw them off. There were too many of them, however, and thus his struggle was in vain. Kyle shuddered at the thought of interfering, but had no other option but to come to the rescue. With a yell, he jumped at the rats and gifted them – and by extension Mysterion – the foam shower of their lives. The hero yelped and curled into a ball, shielding his face from the assault while the little creatures fled, threatened by the extinguisher and the noise it was making.

Kyle stopped his attack when the last of them scattered, and dropped the pressure vessel to the ground. Mysterion wasn't moving, but his chest was heaving. Most of his costume had been eaten.

"Hey, it's okay." Kyle lowered himself on one knee and placed a hand on the man's shoulder. "They're gone. You're safe."

Mysterion flinched, but didn't answer. Simply continued to hide his face under his palms. Puzzled, Kyle looked closer and saw that there was next to nothing left of the mask - Mysterion couldn't pry his hands away because if he did, his identity would be revealed.

"Uh… listen, we don't have time for this," Kyle said. "You're bleeding. We need to get you to a doctor."

"No," Mysterion refused. "Leave me here. I can handle this."

The hero shifted to his back, and his torn hood slid down, revealing his short, dirty blonde hair. The wound on his side complained, and his hands twitched in response. Kyle scowled.

"You're acting like a child," he grunted.

"I'm having a bad day."

"You're not the only one, believe me. Now, I think I saw a first aid kit back in the girls' room."

"Leave me," Mysterion repeated and attempted to sit up. He succeeded, but the hood fell down completely and left his entire head open. Kyle froze. Felt his jaw fall off.

"Wait a minute… I know who you are," he groaned, and his fingers pressed to the hero's with firm purpose. Mysterion winced like the touch was painful, but didn't protest when Kyle pulled their joined hands away, revealing one half of his face.

Music exploded inside Kyle's ears like a wild fire.

 _AND IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII_

 _WIIIIILL AALWAYS_

 _LOOOOVE Y-_

He brought their hands back to Mysterion's face, and the thundering stopped. Silence returned to the playground, but not to Kyle's damaged sanity.

"I should have guessed…" he muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his fingertips.

* * *

Song used: I Will Always Love You by Whitney Houston


	4. Chapter 4

_You're just too good to be true_

 _I can't take my eyes off you_

 _You'd be like heaven to touch_

 _I wanna hold you so much_

Kyle kept his eyes trained on the first aid kit where his hands were searching for the items he needed. He'd never thought he would find so many supplies in a toilet, even if said toilet was a freaking TARDIS in disguise - there was no other meaning to this room being much larger on the inside than on the outside.

Mysterion was sitting half naked next to him, leaning to the eye-tormenting pink wall with a piece of wet cloth in his hand. He hissed quietly from time to time as antiseptic stung the damaged skin on his side.

"This one needs stitches too…" he muttered.

 _At long last love has arrived_

 _And I thank God I'm alive-_

Kyle patiently ignored the music. There was nothing else he could do about it at the moment – it wasn't like he could cover the hero's face and leave him like that till they parted, and the option of standing up and abandoning him had been labeled "unacceptable". It didn't matter who Mysterion was, and it didn't matter what absurdity surrounded Kyle while he was tending the man's wounds. Sugary lyrics in his head, colorful fairies flying around and squealing at posters, the aroma of wild flowers blossoming in the air - he could take it all.

Kyle picked a small bottle of lidocaine from the box and put it next to a half empty pack of syringes and a suture kit. He wasn't an expert in medicine, but Mysterion seemed to have some experience in suturing and knew exactly what they were looking for.

"Take care of my shoulder," the hero said in a voice that Kyle knew from their previous escalator meeting. Yet again, it went straight to both his heart and stomach. "I'll deal with the other wound myself."

"Alright," Kyle nodded. "Just remember that I haven't done this before."

He stood up and washed his hands in a sink they'd settled next to, then sat back down and opened a pack of medical gloves. His hands were trembling slightly.

"Kyle. Look at me," Mysterion called in a calm voice. Kyle complied.

 _Pardon the way that I stare_

 _There's nothing else to compare_

 _The sight of you leaves me weak_

 _There are no words left to speak_

It wasn't the first time Kyle noticed the mocking nature of the songs that played whenever the hero had his face uncovered. Mysterion was staring at him alright, but there wasn't much affection in his eyes right now. Kyle, on the other hand, was slowly losing his battle. External, he could endure. His fluttering insides were another story.

He grit his teeth.

"It might help if I tell you this," Mysterion continued without breaking eye contact. "I'm immortal. Even if something does go wrong, I'll just wake up in my bed tomorrow, and there won't be a scratch on me. That's my superhero power."

Kyle simply stared at him for a good quarter of a minute. Then let out a breath and returned to the items he'd prepared for stitching.

"That's good," he said, "but doesn't mean I want to see you in pain."

Mysterion didn't comment on that at first. Then, as Kyle was pulling on a pair of gloves, he smiled and shook his head. "You actually believe me? Just like that?"

A blue unicorn leapt behind Kyle's back and vanished through the closed door with an excited neigh.

"Yeah," Kyle agreed. "Just like that. But don't expect me to kill you at some point." He filled an empty syringe with anesthetic. "I don't want to be a murderer even if you do come back afterwards."

"I understand." Mysterion repositioned himself a little so that Kyle would have better access to the wound. "I only wanted you to know so that you don't freak out if I die on you one day."

"Thanks, I guess." Kyle took a gentle hold of the hero's upper arm, and Mysterion responded to the touch with a brief shiver. He relaxed pretty quickly, but the detail didn't escape unnoticed. "How come you flinch every time I touch you? Is it painful?"

"No. It's not."

"Then why?"

"Stick it in." Mysterion said. "We don't have all night. Some people go to work really early, and we don't want them to find us here."

 _I love you baby_

 _And if it's quite all right_

 _I need you baby_

 _To warm the lonely nights_

 _I love you baby_

 _Trust in me when I say_

"You're really weird." Kyle pushed the needle in, very carefully. Mysterion snorted. "You saved me, then you baited me, and now you're immortal and refuse to tell me what's-" He trailed off for a moment, blinking and pulling the now empty syringe away. "Wait."

"What?"

"I don't even know your real name," Kyle stated flatly. At that, the hero laughed.

"It's Kenny," he said, offering his uninjured hand. "Nice to meet you."

Kyle didn't shake it. He frowned at it instead and then looked up.

"Can I ask you to do something strange?"

"Sure, go ahead."

"Your hands. Press them to your face for a second."

Kenny lowered an eyebrow but did as he was told. Kyle watched closely as the man buried his face in his hands and sat unmoving without further questions.

 _You're just too good to be true_

 _I can't take my eyes off you-_

Whatever trick had been preventing Kyle from having massive hallucinations near Mysterion, it was gone now. He didn't know why, but he wasn't surprised.

"Thanks. You can put them down," he said, returning his attention to the syringe. He refilled it.

"So… why did I do that?" Kenny asked. He stilled for another injection.

"Just wanted to check something." Kyle brushed off the question, sticking the pointy end into the skin on the other side of the wound. No way was he telling this guy about the unceasing debuff he was suffering from. Not now, at least: he didn't know how to handle it or what its source could be, and he sure as hell wouldn't know what to do if Kenny barged in with his pick-up lines. It would be better to talk about it later – during day hours, preferably. "Alright. On to the stitches. Who cut you, by the way?"

"Who do you think?" Kenny shrugged once with his healthy shoulder. "I bumped into your little fan while he was out on a hunt. Wanted to follow him to the next victim, but he spotted me. The fight didn't go well."

"Where is he?" Kyle brought the needle to the wound and took a deep breath before pushing it in. Kenny's arm muscles twitched at the intrusion.

"I don't know," he said. "He cut me with those scissors, knocked the wind out of me and then just ran away while I was recovering. Probably saw something attractive. I followed him to the playground, and that's where the rats came in."

"He fled?"

"Yeah. But still, it went better than our first meeting. He broke my leg back then and- woah, easy there, dude. I can feel this, you know."

"Sorry." Kyle eased the grip he had on the man's upper arm and thought back to the day he'd been attacked. There'd been that gunshot, and police found nothing. He connected that piece of information to the ones he'd learned here, and an interesting conclusion showed up. "I heard a gunshot when I was calling the police. Did he shoot you?"

Kenny looked away. "Heh. Kind of. The gun initially belonged to me, but... You ever seen how they turn the muzzle back to the shooter's face in the movies? Well that's basically what happened, only he shot me in the shoulder, broke my leg and left me there. Took the gun, too."

"Sick bastard."

"Yeah, but not a full-fledged murderer. I had to finish what he started in the alley. Couldn't escape with those injuries and didn't want the police to find me. Are you done yet?"

Kyle checked the stitches. "No."

"Great."

* * *

 _Love me or leave me_

 _Make your choice but believe me_

 _I love youuuu_

 _I do, I do, I do, I do, I do…_

It was as dark outside as it had been when Kyle helped Mysterion to the girls' room. They walked out of the toilet, locked the door best they could and took off towards Kenny's house: the man had mentioned he lived somewhere nearby, and Kyle wanted to make sure he made it there safely. Mysterion's ruined costume was another reason he'd decided to tag along: it hardly covered Kenny's otherwise naked body, and Kyle had lent his coat so that the hero wouldn't freeze his ass off.

"Thanks, dude. You're a life saver," Kenny grinned. "I'd rather you wear it, but if you-"

"Shut up. Your legs are shaking," Kyle cut him off.

"Well yeah, but they always do when you're around-"

"Kenny. Just lead the way."

Kyle still harbored the hope of getting at least a few hours of sleep before he went to work in the morning. His mind was as exhausted as his body, and the never ending string of illusions only added to the weight. The unicorn from before was running circles around him and his newfound friend, and the clouds above had melt together and were now shaping hearts all across the night sky. Kenny didn't seem to notice anything unusual, which could mean two things: either he wasn't a subject to hallucinations, or he was, but didn't want to scare Kyle with his fabulous descriptions.

No one, however, would have been able to resist the meteor shower that occurred when they were exiting the playground. Kyle stopped dead on his tracks when he caught the magnificent sight, and for once, he forgot to feel irritated.

 _So come on, now let's try it_

 _I love you, can't deny it_

 _Cause it's trueee-_

"Kyle? You okay there?"

"Yeah." Kyle cleared his throat and approached the man. They continued walking together.

"What else happens after you die?" he asked.

Kenny hummed. "My body disappears from the place where I died, and I wake up in my bed unharmed – that part you already know," he said. "If someone sees how I die, their memories will become altered when the day passes. So, say, if you saw me shoot myself, you'd forget about that in the morning. You'd remember me running away instead, or not coming at all. And that's not all there is to it."

"What else is there?"

"When I die, you will forget everything I've just told you."

Kyle finally tore his eyes away from the sky. Kenny was looking back at him. "I see. Well, there is a solution to that."

"What do you mean?"

Kyle leaned towards Kenny without answering and took his phone out of the inside pocket of his coat. He brought the screen to life and switched to his notes.

"I remember the gunshot. Your death does not have a direct effect on those who do not see it. If you happened to die in a plane crash, the crash itself would not be forgotten. Let's see what happens if I keep a record."

He opened a new note and started typing.

 _[Kenny is immortal. If he dies, he will always come back the morning, but my memories will be erased or altered.]_

He left an empty line after the statement, and below it typed another one:

 _[Mon. 12 – Suicide in the alley.]_

"I'll protect this list with a password only I know," Kyle promised, closing the document. "I always check my notes, and a locked one should attract my attention."

"Smart. But I don't think you'll ever need it. It's not like I have a habit of dying on daily basis and in front of you."

 _I love youuuu_

 _I do, I do, I do, I do, I do…_

Kyle put the phone into the back pocket of his jeans. "You never know."

The stars kept falling down and reappearing on the sky as if someone was reviving them on their places just to have them ripped off again. Kyle had intended to watch the entire shower, but couldn't keep himself absorbed for too long because the path Kenny had chosen led to his house as well. They rounded the Broflovskis' backyard, and it dawned upon Kyle that not only did the man live close to the playground, he was also a neighbor. Mysterion had been his neighbor all along.

"I haven't seen you around here before," Kyle said thoughtfully. "Not surprising, I guess. I rarely spend time here myself. Which house do you live in?"

"That one." Kenny answered, pointing in the direction of the railroad. The poor area of South Park. Kyle's eyes widened, and for a moment he forgot how to produce words. No wonder he'd met Mysterion on the track. "Our house is closest to the railroad, so it was my parents you heard the other night. When that rat bit me, remember? My mother even called for me. I thought she'd blow my cover."

"She did?"

"Yeah. Happened a whole chapter ago, though... No wonder you forgot."

"I haven't heard them in a while," Kyle noted absently.

"Don't worry. I'll catch that freak, and you'll hear them again."

"What…?"

Kenny lowered his head, putting his hands in the pockets of Kyle's coat. "He took my mother."

"That bastard…"

They stepped over the railroad track, and Kyle couldn't help but think about having someone precious taken away into the unknown - just like that, without any goodbyes or written messages. Without any information about where the person could be and how they were feeling. He couldn't imagine how horrified he would have been if his own mother had been stolen.

Kenny led him to the old building without breaking the silence (the song, in Kyle's case). His house didn't have a second floor and certainly had seen better days: the paint was barely alive, the windows were cracked, and judging by the fractures on the front door, it had been smashed open at least once. The smell here wasn't very pleasant either, probably due to the garbage piles and empty bottles that were scattered all across the property. Even the giant rainbows that were bowing over the place and lighting it with glittering colors didn't save the situation.

They reached the entrance, and Kenny took a few seconds to find the key he was keeping inside one of his belt pockets. Thankfully, the rats hadn't torn a lot of holes in them.

"We're alone in here, so make yourself at home," he said, opening the door. "I know it's not an easy thing to do for a normal person, but you'll manage."

The inside of the house was hardly any better. Most of the furniture was broken, and the walls were covered with dry dirt of some unidentifiable origin. Thick cobwebs were clinging to the walls, bags full of rubbish were resting in the corners of the living room, but the worst thing Kyle saw was a fat rat that bolted into the kitchen as soon as they walked in.

"Dude! What the hell?"

"Think of them as pets." Kenny suggested, switching the lights on. He took the coat off and handed it over to Kyle. "They aren't as bad as you think they are."

"They tried to eat you alive!" Kyle protested.

"Only because they thought I was dying." Kenny walked further into the room, peeling off the remains of his costume and revealing more of his skin. Music intensified drastically.

 _If you change your mind, I'm the first in line_

 _Honey, I'm still free_

 _Take a chance on me_

"Shit. I need a new one," Kenny muttered and then noticed that Kyle was still standing at the door, unsure of what to do but watching very intently.

"I uh…" Kyle mumbled quietly, and Kenny patted the armrest of the worn sofa.

"You're not going anywhere until I'm ready to go with you. You're still a potential target, and I'm not. Just give me a minute."

"Fine…" Kyle wrapped the coat around his shoulders and sat on the very edge. The cushion protested with a miserable creak.

 _Gonna do my very best and it ain't no lie_

 _If you put me to the test, if you let me try_

Fortunately, Kenny decided to change in a separate room, and when he disappeared, the song dropped its volume and the rainbow outside dimmed. Kyle sighed in relief and enjoyed the silence while it lasted; he'd have to do something about this insanity later. He was barely holding it together by now.

"Mf mfmff." The door opened a couple of minutes later, and Kenny emerged, wearing the orange parka from before. The hood was up, and his mouth was covered, so it was impossible to translate what he'd just said.

"I didn't catch that," Kyle stated. Kenny popped the upper button open, and music came back to life with renewed vigor.

 _Oh you can take your time, baby,_

 _I'm in no hurry,_

 _Know I'm gonna get you_

"I'm ready," Kenny repeated. "Let's go."

* * *

Despite having successfully departed into unconsciousness at about three am, Kyle still didn't catch enough sleeping hours and resembled an intoxicated zombie when the following morning poked his alarm. He spent an embarrassing couple of minutes lifting his upper part from the soft warmth and then another five struggling not to fall back down. His thoughts weren't coherent when he brushed his teeth, and they didn't get any better when he was eating his breakfast. His parents noticed, of course, but blessed him with silence he was endlessly grateful for.

At least now that Kenny was away, Kyle didn't have to cope with the endless onslaught of love songs, sparkles and other vanilla shit he wanted out of his life as soon as possible and for good.

 _Bzzzt_

Kyle put his half-eaten chicken sandwich on the plate and picked up his phone.

 _[hey babe hows ur day]_

 _[i had that dream where i was running around the town naked and u weer trying to stop me an]_

 _[d then we ended up makn out in the mall for some reason]_

Kyle nearly choked on his tea - partly because Kenny was bolder than a punch in the face and partly because the man apparently believed there were no such things as punctuation, autocorrect or proofreading. Kyle also hadn't been expecting to see the flirtatious side of him so soon: yesterday night had proven that Kenny could be much more serious and reserved. He wondered if this part of his behavior was sincere.

He sighed and began typing back, but another message popped up faster.

 _[ill have to make a new costume again]_

 _[do u think theyll let me work extra extra hours]_

 _[so how bout makin out in the mall]_

 _[jk jk dont block me dude]_

After that the string of messages broke, and Kyle could only gape at his phone. His free hand felt for the sandwich and didn't find it.

"Kyle, dear, are you alright?" his mother asked. "The plate is on your left."

"Uh… yeah." He coughed awkwardly and put the phone away so it wouldn't distract him anymore. Kyle could text Kenny back later.

He pulled the plate closer and took the sandwich, ready to bite when his eyes suddenly came upon the window. Or, more precisely, upon a carpet of beautiful flowers growing on it. Faint music bloomed in Kyle's ears, whispering words of love only he would hear. The man glanced at his phone and saw no new messages – didn't see anything, actually, the screen was turned off.

"What the hell…"

He stood up. His parents froze mid eating, but he didn't care to explain himself and strolled to the front door. If Kyle was going crazy again, that had to mean Kenny was somewhere in the area. He opened the door, looked around… nobody fit the description. It didn't make any sense.

"Kenny?" Kyle called, and no one answered. "Hm…"

He eyed the neighborhood again, but to no avail. One thing attracted his eyes this time, though: a large man stepped out of the house that stood next to the Marshes', wearing an expensive looking suit, a pair of polished black shoes and a smug expression Kyle wished he could forget.

Stan hadn't told him that Eric Cartman lived next door.

Kyle quickly grasped it that he needed to go back into the house if he wanted to avoid being seen, but as he was turning, Cartman's voice reached his ears.

"Oh, isn't this Mr. Broflovski I see?"

He let out a long breath, wishing the fairies from before would return, tear the detective away from the ground and deliver him to the outer space. To make it all worse, Gerald picked the best time to emerge at the doorstep.

"Kyle, we're getting late," he said and promptly went back, but that was enough for Cartman to gain the upper hand. Kyle could see the man's disgusting grin from where he was standing.

"So, Kyle, you're still living with your parents, hm? How… peculiar. But I shall not judge you. Jews always stick together - it must be a tradition, and I respect traditions. Have a nice day!"

Just a few sentences, and Kyle was already boiling inside, ready to burst like an enraged volcano. His fingers twitched, desperate to flip Cartman off, and it was then when luck suddenly smiled upon him.

"Eric! Eric, honey, you forgot your lunch!"

The grin vanished from the detective's face as a woman hurried out of his house with a neat box in her hands. It didn't take a genius to understand who she was. Kyle's lips twisted in a poisonous smile.

"Ah, Mr. Detective, why didn't you mention that you're living with your mother?" he sang sweetly. "Good morning, Mrs. Cartman!"

"Good morning, dear!" She waved at him, and Kyle spent a second – just one second – enjoying the fury that flourished on Cartman's face. He then went back to the kitchen, his fist pumping the air in victory… and not only the air. Feeling a tiny impact, Kyle looked up and saw a little angel boy fly up to the ceiling, his hands pressed to his red cheek.

"Why do you have to be so cruel," the boy cried, and Kyle's smile died as fast as Cartman's had.

He may have won one battle, but the other was pushing him down to his knees.

* * *

Things got worse during the day. It seemed that Kenny's presence was no longer required to launch the mind screwing process, and love songs were stuck in Kyle's head like it was some unbreakable radio. Kyle tried to ignore it all at first, he really did, but the more hours passed, the more persistent this madness became. The hallucinations made it impossible to work, and finally, at about six o'clock, his patience snapped. Kyle picked his phone from the table and scrolled the contact list till he saw Kenny's name.

 _[We need to talk.]_

Kenny didn't answer for several minutes, and those minutes were a living nightmare. Kyle was about to write another message when the dots appeared on the other side of the screen.

 _[ouch babe]_

 _[i mean sure we can do that just come to the mall when ur free and ill be there]_

Kyle bit the inside of his cheek.

 _[No, we need to talk now.]_

 _[uuuh yeah okay why not]_

 _[meet you on the second floor by th eescalators]_

 _[I'll be there in ten minutes.]_

Kenny sent a reply, but Kyle didn't check.

"Dad, I should go. It's important," he said, making a beeline for the exit.

"Sure, son. I'll give you a call if I need you," Gerald answered. Kyle was too busy fighting for his sanity to listen.

He'd never walked so fast. Buildings flew by, and so did people, and Kyle thought he'd passed someone he knew, but he didn't want to delay his meeting with Kenny. He had to admit that the situation was not under his control anymore, and if things proceeded like this, Kyle would soon find himself in an asylum. He knew that in the real world he was just a man rushing to see another man, that simple, but in this imaginary reality he was followed by an army of angels, a herd of pegasi, and god knew what else, and the music was so merciless Kyle was barely keeping himself from screaming at the top of his lungs.

 _I should have told him about it,_ he thought as he approached the mall. People were swarming all over the parking lot, and the same amount would undoubtedly wait for Kyle inside, but he didn't care. All he cared about was seeing Kenny and fixing this problem, and maybe the combination of both would create a cure for the illness. Kyle elbowed through the crowd, ignoring the offensive words that followed, and once he was inside, he immediately spotted the familiar parka. Kenny waved at him from the second floor, and Kyle dashed towards the escalators like his life depended on it.

 _I've been waiting for so long_

 _Now I've finally found someone_

 _To stand by me_

Kenny seemed amused by the eagerness Kyle showed as he practically threw people out of his way. The latter wasn't too bothered by what he was doing, overheated by the illusions that refused to let him go. Kyle hopped over the last couple of steps and ran towards the man.

"Hey, dude, you look troubled," Kenny greeted him with a grin. "What's going on- hey, wait-"

Kyle grabbed his wrist, and the contact sent a violent surge of shivers down his body. His heart slammed against his ribcage, and he was lost.

 _You're the one thing_

 _I can't get enough of_

 _So I'll tell you something_

"Kyle-?"

He didn't listen, just led Kenny away from the mass and into a narrow corridor next to the coffee shop. It appeared to be empty enough for a vital conversation.

Kenny attempted to stop him. "Kyle, you can't go in there, it's for-"

"You can," the man cut him off. "Kenny, it's urgent."

"…okay?"

 _This could be love because-_

Maybe Kyle simply had to accept the songs. Do what they wanted him to do. He wasn't sure what exactly that meant, but he would do whatever he could to find a way to save himself from this torment.

 _I will tell him,_ he thought. _Warn him. He will understand._

They walked further into the corridor until Kyle was satisfied with the absence of life around them. He stopped, and Kenny watched him with plain worry on his face, waited for him to speak. Kyle appreciated the concern – or would have, if he'd been thinking straight right now.

"Kenny," he mumbled, taking firm hold of the man's shoulders, and he must have disturbed the wound because Kenny gasped and took a shaky step back. The recovery was fast, though, and Kenny swallowed, throwing a puzzled glance at Kyle's hands before looking back up. That was all preparation Kyle allowed before he pulled the man down for a kiss. Their mouths met with a soft sound, and fireworks exploded in the background, congratulating Kyle on his glorious defeat.

Kenny stiffened against him at first; his hands hung loosely at his sides, and his lips remained sealed in confusion. Only when Kyle wrapped his arms around the man's neck did Kenny come back to his senses, his eyes closing and fingers brushing over Kyle's hip in a mute question. Whatever it was, Kyle shifted closer in agreement, and Kenny snaked one hand around his middle, bringing the other to his cheek.

Someone whistled.

"Hey, they're finally doing it! Everyone, get in here!"

Suddenly, the corridor was overcrowded with tons of cheering people with supportive banners, and a flurry of applause followed the statement. Kyle jumped out of Kenny's grasp, startled by the ruckus.

He immediately noticed the lack of deafening songs, and a whole lot of illusions had disappeared, which meant that he had found his remedy. Still, a bunch of small things remained, and Kyle wanted them gone before they would grow up. Kissing in front of so many people, however, was a no go, and he growled under his breath.

It was then when Kenny gripped his elbow and led him towards one of the doors, accompanied by a disappointed chorus of hundreds. He let Kyle in, and the viewers immediately lost their interest and started to disperse.

Kyle switched on the light: the room turned out to be a storage of some sort, with boxes and crates and everything. Then he heard a click. Kenny locked the door.

"Uuh I don't think they'll follow us here, Kenn-mmmf-"

Within a split second Kyle found himself shoved into a wall, and Kenny was all over him again, kissing him hard. The mood changed; this kiss wasn't innocent, and Kenny didn't ask for permission to touch Kyle where he wanted. His hands sneaked to the man's shoulders and drew him closer, chest to chest. The fairy tale fell to their feet and dissipated like a shattered dream, and yet Kyle couldn't stop answering Kenny's demand, opening his mouth with obedience when he felt a tongue slide between his lips.

"Kenny…" he whispered, and the man answered with a playful bite and a low chuckle before claiming Kyle's mouth once again. The kiss deepened, wet and forceful, strikingly igniting – it shot pure electricity down Kyle's veins, and his knees trembled like they were made of jelly. He clung to Kenny's shoulders for support and completely missed it when one of the man's hands clutched his own and slowly guided it down. Then Kyle's palm was pressing to Kenny's crotch, and it forced him out of whatever spell he'd been under.

"What the fuck, dude!" Kyle snapped, pushing Kenny away as if the man carried some kind of incurable disease. "What was that for?!"

Kenny backed away with all confidence of a kicked puppy, wrapping his hands around himself and clearly terrified of what he'd been doing for the past few minutes. He opened his mouth to say something - to apologize, or to explain his actions, perhaps, but in the end he couldn't offer even those things. For the second time that day Kyle felt anger swelling inside him, but he knew that he'd caused the entire mess, and so he gave Kenny a chance. Waited. Waited, and waited, and waited…

Kenny wasn't looking at him anymore.

"Alright," Kyle growled, turning towards the door. "You obviously don't want to talk, so I'm out of here."

"No! Wait!"

Kenny grabbed his hand and spun him around so that they were facing each other again. His breath was ragged and nervous.

"Please," he begged, "you can't leave me like this. I'm going to die if you do, Kyle, I really am…"

"God, you're pathetic," Kyle hissed, trying to free his hand. Kenny didn't let go. "Just jerk it if it bothers you so much! I didn't sign up for this!"

"You fucking kissed me!" Kenny objected, pulling him closer. "You can't just kiss someone and then bail like it means nothing to you!"

"I didn't want to- to… No, dude! Just no!"

Despite putting up a fight, Kyle recognized the sharp truth in Kenny's words. It didn't matter if the man knew about the songs and magic or not; he wasn't the one who'd started this. Kyle was. He had no right to be angry. But he also had no desire to lend his hand for such purposes.

"Do it yourself," he repeated.

"It doesn't work that way!"

"It doesn't- Wow, dude. Really? Then do it with someone else."

At this, Kenny actually laughed, though his laughter belonged to a bitter sort.

"You think I haven't tried that," he choked out, his voice strained. "Nobody else is allowed, Kyle. Only you. I can't do anything about that. I can't even sleep at night because the whole fucking universe scolds me for not getting into your pants."

"What…?"

"I had it under control until you kissed me. It was getting worse, but I had it under control."

"Kenny, what are you talking about? Do you see the same things I do?"

Kyle felt the hold on his hand loosen. Kenny looked at him with a frown. "Music? Sounds? Visions? Are those the reasons you kissed me?"

"Yeah… And they're gone now. It should have worked for you too…"

"Hah. Well. It didn't. Maybe you're luckier than I am, or maybe you're just innocent. The only thing I got from this is… you know." He nodded down. Kyle's eyes followed the movement on instinct and then jumped back up.

"Jesus Christ."

If Kenny was suffering from the same thing, then there really was little he could do. Either have his way with Kyle or-

"Why doesn't it work with anyone else?" Kyle asked.

Kenny smiled, shaking his head. "That stuff you've been experiencing, it prevents you from touching those who weren't chosen. Try it sometime, you'll get it."

"And… what happens if I leave?"

"I'll have to follow your advice and help myself, but that won't make the visions go away. Eventually, I'll have no choice but to kill myself, and that will be a temporary solution."

A jolt of terror ran down Kyle's spine. "The illusions will come back…?"

"Yeah. Congratulations."

"But I kissed you, shouldn't that be enough?"

"And I jerked off in your room while you were sleeping. Believe me, I know what I'm saying."

The shudder returned full force, making Kyle cringe. "You- Dude, gross! In my room!"

"What? You of all people should understand. I was desperate, and you told me not to approach you ever again. What else was I supposed to do?"

Yet again, Kenny was right. Kyle would definitely have trouble falling asleep from now on, but he supposed he'd had it coming. He sighed.

"Do I have to touch you?"

A glimpse of hope sparkled in Kenny's eyes. "I'd appreciate it if you did that, but no. Just don't move."

"…fine."

Kyle leaned back on a tall crate by the exit and simply stood there, waiting for Kenny to do whatever it was that he needed. The man didn't hesitate for long, and Kyle would be lying if he said he wasn't afraid of his forwardness. He had never been cornered like this, and the weirdest thing was that he didn't feel repulsed when Kenny pressed their bodies together. Even when the the hardness rubbed against his thigh, that didn't worry him as much as he'd thought it would. Kenny moaned into his ear, quietly, and brought him closer.

"Kyle…"

Two hands slid up Kyle's back again, but he didn't object. It would be pointless now, anyway: as soon as Kenny dived back into intimacy, he turned into an incoherent mess of gasps and groans, grinding against Kyle like some feral animal. He kept his face pressed to Kyle's neck, licked and kissed the skin there, and even though it was affecting Kyle in a strangely pleasant way, he didn't want to find hickeys later.

"Kenny," he said, "don't leave marks."

Kenny licked the shell of his ear in response, thrusting harder.

"Touch me," he whispered, and there went the "don't move" part of their deal.

Kyle supposed it wouldn't be harmful for either of them if he complied, though, so he raised his hands and placed them on Kenny's hips. From there he could feel every movement Kenny was making, their feverish urgency, their growing speed. He strengthened the grip and kissed the man's neck while it was open – just to make it a little easier for both of them - and that decision earned him an unexpectedly loud moan. Kenny's hands jumped down to squeeze his ass; the step was bold and intimidated Kyle's pride, but he allowed it anyway and even rewarded Kenny for it, meeting one of his thrusts.

"Kyle…!" came a strangled moan, and seconds later Kenny bit his shoulder, convulsing and coming in his jeans like a teenager and not giving a shit about it. His embrace was suffocating, and Kyle hated him for the bite, but when he opened his mouth to complain, Kenny shut him up with another kiss.

"God, Kyle, it's so quiet," he said afterwards, still keeping Kyle trapped. "It's so quiet now…"


	5. Chapter 5

For a second, the lights dimmed, and then flickered back to life. Kyle raised his head and watched the flat ceiling of the storage room, his hands still lying on Kenny's hips and fingers brushing against the hem of his warm parka. Now that everything was over, the room plunged into silence that was disturbed only by the ticking sound of Kyle's wristwatch.

"You okay?" Kenny muttered into his shoulder, and the man nodded. His fingers gave the Kenny's hips a weak squeeze.

"You?" he asked.

"Better."

Kyle withdrew his hands then, and Kenny leaned away, taking a couple of uneven steps back. The release must have been thorough - he seemed to be quite affected. The other indicator was the front of his jeans, now decorated with an impressive wet spot. Kenny eyed it with an amused expression and chuckled, his thoughts the exact copy of Kyle's, though the latter didn't see it as a funny thing.

"Damn. Should've taken them off or something," he said. "Well, can't do anything about that now."

"Kenny."

He looked up. "Yeah?"

Kyle drew his phone out of his pocket and turned on the screen. He wasn't fond of carrying mirrors around and thus used the front camera whenever he needed to take a look at himself. His shoulder was aching, and he could still feel the faint layer of saliva lingering on his skin.

"I asked you to be careful," he pointed out, bringing the phone to his shoulder. The mark he saw on the screen was vivid. Unmistakable. "Shit."

"Sorry about that." Kenny shifted from one foot to another. "I didn't mean to do that, it just… happened."

"Uh huh." Kyle wiped the mark with his sleeve and adjusted the collar to hide it. "You need to do something about your jeans."

"Eh, it's no problem. Hold on."

Kenny walked up to a set of steel lockers Kyle hadn't cared to notice before. He squatted and opened one of them, revealing a worn brown bag that was resting inside. He pulled it out.

"I have spare clothes," he said. "Meant for another job, but who cares."

Kyle folded his hands across his chest, watching as the man took a pair of grey sweatpants out of the bag. They didn't look new. "Who do you work as?" he asked.

Kenny stood up again and began to remove his jeans. He didn't bother turning away from Kyle. "Where do I start? I'm a lot of things. A courier, a janitor, a mechanic, sometimes a barista… and the local superhero, of course. You might also bump into me if you go to our Shitty Wok on Sunday."

Kyle hadn't expected to hear such a list. Two jobs he could understand, but six? He doubted that was physically possible. "How do you do that?"

Kenny bent to pick up his sweatpants, and for a moment Kyle's brain froze, unable to process the image. He cleared his throat, and Kenny grinned.

"You want another round, just say so."

"No, I'm fine," Kyle assured him. His eyebrow twitched.

"Alright." Kenny straightened up, unfolding the cloth, and Kyle immediately spotted a few patches on the fabric. These sweatpants were probably older than their owner. "I work here most of the time. Have been for years, actually, so everyone knows me. Then I spend weekends repairing cars, and at nights… you know."

Once the pants were on, Kenny tucked his jeans into the bag and pushed it back into the locker. Kyle stared at him.

"When do you sleep?" he asked.

"Several hours are enough," the man answered, locking the door. "Usually, that is. The last two weeks were insane." He stood up and gestured to the exit. "Let's go grab us some coffee while I'm on a break."

They left the room, and Kenny made sure to lock it as well before they proceeded towards the coffee shop. The mall had returned to its normal form with lots of customers, omnipresent noise and mile-long queues, but the absence of fairy tales could do wonders to people - Kyle felt content.

About ten minutes later they were sitting by a large glass, both of them with espressos because Kenny wanted to have the same drink as Kyle. Gerald hadn't called yet, so Kyle decided he could spend a bit more time in the mall and maybe finish the lists he'd promised to Craig since it had been impossible to do so before - not with all the illusions jumping around him. He also wanted to know more about the curse he shared with Kenny, and Kenny looked like he wanted to discuss that as well.

"So, how do these visions work for you?" Kyle asked.

Kenny took a moment to think. "I don't know about yours, but mine are pretty straightforward. When I first saw you in that alley, it wasn't bad, I just… couldn't take my eyes off you, and there were these smells and whispers and god knows what else." He took a sip of coffee. "Now it's all about being close to you. Feeling you. If I ignore the visions, they get stronger until I snap. Not much of a choice."

"I see…" Kyle said slowly. "Whispers are new to me. What did you hear?"

"Lots and lots of dirty stuff." Kenny smiled, covering his mouth with his hand. "Like how good you taste, how smooth your hair is or how tight your a-"

"You can keep the rest to yourself, thanks!" Kyle yelped, raising both hands in defense. He walked right into that one, could have figured it out on his own.

Kenny laughed. "And here I was getting to the best lines. Such a shame."

They fell quiet after that. Kyle fought bravely against the heat that was rising to his cheeks: he'd been walking the Earth for twenty five years now, and never before had he found his defense levels this low. Thankfully, while he couldn't overthrow Kenny in this subject, he could point it in another direction.

"You said it all started in the alley," he said, and the man nodded. "Weird. I didn't feel anything back then. It hit me in the mall. At first I thought it was because your face was covered, but when I asked you to do that in the girls' room-"

"Ah."

"Yeah, didn't work." Kyle sighed. They weren't getting very far with the amount of information they had, but he refused to accept a forced relationship as the sole solution. "I guess we can only observe for now. See where this leads us."

"And what will we do if it gets worse?" Kenny murmured. "I mean, I know how to lift some tension…"

"Kenny. No."

"What else do we have? Any ideas?"

"No, but I don't go around sleeping with people I barely know."

Kenny didn't look very cheerful anymore and strongly reminded Kyle of his hero self. "The situation will eventually get out of hand, though. I can kill myself, but you can't do that, Kyle."

Kyle shivered. The cup of coffee he had his fingers wrapped around wasn't warming him.

"Then we need to find a way to stop this," he summed up. "And soon."

Kenny had nothing to say to that.

* * *

All in all, Kenny wasn't the worst person to fall for, Kyle thought as he was nearing the police station two hours later, a folded sheet of paper resting in his pocket. It could have been someone else, someone far less pleasant than him – the pig person, for example. Or even worse: Cartman. Kyle was pretty sure he would've jumped off a bridge if the detective had been the case.

No, Kenny was good, he decided. He was tall and smart and had long, attractive legs. He was also South Park's true hero - even if his luck had apparently died of heart attack when the Broflovskis moved in. Kenny was trustworthy. Confident.

Kyle groaned in despair.

No matter how hard he tried to convince himself, the idea of being dependent on someone against his will was destructive. He couldn't picture himself waking up in the middle of the night, delusional and frustrated, desperate to get out of his bed and run to someone else's place.

"H-hey! Kyle?"

His train of thought derailed, and he looked over his shoulder, searching for the owner of the voice. It turned out to be Tweek; the man was almost invisible beneath all the clothes he was wearing, but the chullo hat and a huge paper bag with his coffee shop logo gave him away.

"Hi," Kyle greeted him.

"A-are you l-looking for Craig?" Tweek asked, stopping next to him. His eye twitched.

"Yes. I have the lists ready."

"G-good. Argh- Let's go together."

The company was welcomed, though Kyle could not help noticing how nervous Tweek became when Craig wasn't watching over him. They continued walking together in silence – luckily, the building was a couple of minutes away, and that wasn't enough time for Kyle to dive back into his concerns.

The police station met them with another lack of police cars on the parking lot. Kyle narrowed his eyes in suspicion: first time that had happened, Craig's father got kidnapped. Yet he didn't remember seeing any fresh posters in the morning newspaper…

"Someone's missing?" he still asked, and Tweek bit his lip.

"I-I'm sorry, I can't tell you. A-ask Craig, ngh-"

Kyle had been waiting for a similar answer. "Alright."

They approached the entrance, and he pulled the door open for Tweek since the man's hands were busy holding the paper bag. There weren't many officers in the room, must have gone on patrol, but Craig was sitting at his desk, surrounded by folders and documents. He raised his head when the door opened, and Kyle caught a glimpse of fondness when the officer saw his boyfriend at the doorstep. Then Craig saw Kyle, and the emotion died.

"Done with the lists?" he asked in a cold voice.

"Yeah." Kyle followed Tweek to the officer's table and took out the folded paper. "It's not much, but I hope it will help."

It also didn't escape his notice how Craig took the paper bag first even though the case information was presented. The man's priorities were somewhat touching.

"Thanks," Craig said, unfolding the sheet. He scanned the names briefly. "I'll have them checked. You can go."

The officer sat down at his table and glued his eyes to the computer screen, busying himself with whatever work he had been doing before he was disturbed. Tweek offered Kyle a shy smile, and Kyle in his turn wondered if he'd be successful in learning anything here. If he failed, he could try asking Kenny, but they'd spent most of the night together, and he doubted the man knew more than he did.

"Is someone missing?" Kyle decided to ask. Craig looked up at him, opened his mouth to answer, and at the same moment a door opened somewhere nearby, letting in the voice no one was looking forward to hearing.

"Oh, it's Mr. Broflovski again! Why didn't you tell me he was coming, Craig?"

The officer growled under his breath, and so did Kyle. He'd only seen Cartman a few times in his entire life, but he could tell that the detective was spiteful and eager to play dirty. Venom was showing in his words so heavily even Craig didn't remain indifferent.

"What's up with you?" he asked, and Kyle didn't sense a question in those words. Craig knew exactly what was going on.

"Oh, I'm perfectly fine." The detective approached the table and stopped right next to Kyle, making the man eager to step away. That eagerness didn't take over, though; Kyle continued to hold his ground. "Our Jewish friend here, on the other hand, may need a bit of advice."

"We haven't confirmed anything yet," Craig said.

" _You_ haven't. Everything is clear to me." Cartman eyed the bag Tweek had brought earlier and snorted. Tweek gripped the hem of his jacket.

"D-don't even start," he warned.

"I wasn't going to start anything," the detective promised, raising a hand as if Tweek was about to jump him. "All I'm saying is it's impressive how your place is still holding up even though you've only got one customer these days."

Craig scowled. "Get lost, fatass. I'm trying to work here."

"What was that about giving me advice?" Kyle interfered. He could feel Cartman's eyes boring a hole in his head but didn't reward the man with a look of his own. What the detective had said upon joining them by the table made his insides twist.

"Just wanted you to know that being a Jew in this town might be a little… dangerous," Cartman hinted at what Kyle already knew. "Such an unfortunate turn of events… It's a shame Craig didn't listen to me and focused on protecting the redhead people instead of Jews."

"ManPig doesn't target Jews," Kyle objected.

"Apparently, he does."

"What…?"

Craig let out a tired breath and leaned back into the chair, crossing his hands over his chest. "Another woman is missing. A Jew." Cartman chuckled, and he glared at the man before continuing. "Not a redhead. Has never been, as far as I can tell."

"But that doesn't make any sense…" Kyle muttered, dropping his eyes to the floor. "He's targeting everyone now?"

"Why, not everyone," the detective corrected him. "Just Jews. And since you can't leave the town, I advise you to stick to the Jewish tradition and spend more time with your family. As for me, I have important work to do. See you later!"

The detective waved to no one in particular and headed lazily to the exit. Kyle did all he could not to boost his progress with a kick.

"Do you w-want some coffee?" Tweek asked, opening the bag. "I always make an extra one."

Kyle wanted to decline the offer at first, but Cartman's comment on Tweek Bros. made him reconsider. "Yes, thank you," he said. "How much is it?"

"It's free." Tweek took out two paper cups, put one next to Craig's hand and presented the other to Kyle. "Here you go."

"Thanks."

"He's right about one thing," Craig said, pulling his cup closer. "Go home and warn your parents. Don't leave your house at night. You may go now."

"See you later, Kyle," Tweek added.

Kyle gave him a tiny smile before complying. Inside, he wasn't smiling at all: his view on the pig person had been turned upside down, and he didn't know what to think anymore. There had to be a reason why a non-redhead person had been chosen - and a Jewish one on top of that. The only theory Kyle had had was ruined, and perhaps that meant his family was in more danger than he'd thought.

The realization made him freeze right outside the building - in the middle of the short stairway. Cold wind hit Kyle in the face, and he pulled out his phone, thinking about calling his mother. An unread message greeted him.

"Hm?"

He opened it.

 _[hot]_

It was the text Kenny had sent him before they met in the mall, his reply to Kyle's "I'll be there in ten minutes". Kyle failed to understand what exactly Kenny had found hot in that sentence, and was about to close the chat window when a row of dots stopped him.

 _[hey babe miss me]_

Kyle gulped. His fingers hovered over the small digital buttons; one part of him wanted to make Kenny wait a minute or two, but the other insisted on sharing the ManPig news. After a quick moment of hesitation, Kyle typed a reply.

 _[Did you know another woman is missing?]_

He hit 'send' and resumed his way to the bus stop: it was getting dark, and he had to go back home. His father hadn't called him yet, but he supposed his parents had questions. After all, Kyle wasn't known for abandoning work in the middle of the day.

His phone buzzed.

 _[Who?]_

 _[I thought I made him reconsider.]_

He stared at the words for a few seconds, then checked the sender. The sudden occurrence of grammar in the messages made him wonder if he'd switched windows without noticing. But he hadn't; the name at the top read 'Kenny', and the row of poorly written texts below undoubtedly belonged to him. The man had simply remembered how to use proper punctuation and capital letters, there was hardly any other explanation. As Kyle was thinking that, another message popped up and scrapped his assumption.

 _[i mean i didtn how should i know i was with u]_

A half empty bus was driving up to the stop, and Kyle hurried to hop in; while it wouldn't deliver him straight to his neighborhood, the playground was listed on the plate. He paid for the ride, took one of the empty seats in the middle and began typing again.

 _[What was that?!]_

 _[what do u mean]_

 _[You don't usually use punctuation or capital letters.]_

Kenny went silent for half a minute, then replied with a single word.

 _[happens]_

Kyle lifted an eyebrow.

 _[ill check my source and see what i can do]_

 _[i wish my costume was feeling better]_

 _[do u think theyll mind if mysterion runs around naked]_

Kyle didn't have enough time to reply.

 _[i know u wont]_

The bus halted by the post office, dropped off some of its weight and departed to the playground.

 _[Yes. Of course. Obviously. I dream about that day and night.]_

 _[dont be hard on urself babe]_

 _[anyway thanks for telling me]_

The relentless attack ended there, which was good. Kyle was running out of sarcasm ayway.

That aside, one fact remained solid: the man did not have a costume. Kyle didn't know how Kenny had dealt with that problem before, but suspected that his clothes and belongings somehow reappeared on him or by his side when he woke up in his bed – that would explain the complete lack of evidence. Kenny refused to die on the playground, and thus his clothes had no way of being restored. Suddenly, Kyle realized that this system of revival was more complex than he'd initially thought.

He watched the sleeping chain of messages, absorbed by the concept, and almost missed his stop. Fortunately, the sound of the doors opening pushed the man out of his thoughts, and he managed to get off of the bus just in time. The street was dark, but people still walked it, returning from their work places. Kyle felt safe for now. Would feel even safer once Stan gave him a gun.

"No, we shall not forgive them! They had their fun, now it's our turn!" a high-pitched voice rose from the playground, and Kyle lifted his head to see what the fuss was about. He recalled the suturing scene on instant – there was a crowd of little girls lingering outside the restroom he'd broken into. They formed a circle around a tall girl with a blonde ponytail, who seemed to be their leader. The girl pointed at the broken door and continued her speech.

"They can't just break into our home, our only sanctuary, and then get away with it! Get ready, girls, 'cause this is a war we're talking about! The boys had it coming for a long time!"

"But Sally, what about the first aid kit and all the blood we found?" a girl from the circle asked, taking a step forward. Kyle slowed his pace to hear more.

"I do acknowledge the possibility of an injured intruder," the leader girl answered, "but that doesn't change the fact that we also found a horde of filthy savages drawing obscenities on our walls! Who do they think they are?!"

"But a war…!" another girl squeaked, also taking a step forward. "We do not have enough resources! And they know our weaknesses! Kitty left the voting papers in her desk, remember?"

"Hey, it wasn't my fault!"

"Quiet!" The leader thundered. "We will deal with you later, Kitty! And now we shall prepare our forces! Anne, you come with me. We're gonna make a few calls!"

The girls proceeded into their headquarters while Kyle lagged by the benches. He watched the door close (someone stuck a piece of cloth to prevent it from opening), and his hand dived into his pocket to get the phone.

 _[I think we've accidentally started a war between boys and girls from the elementary school.]_

 _[The restroom we broke into is the girls' special place.]_

 _[a war]_

The absence of punctuation made it impossible to guess what emotion Kenny had put into that text. Was it a question? An acknowledgement? Kyle had no idea. The message that followed, however, dismissed his confusion.

 _[that brings back memories]_

 _[someone started a war when i was in the fourth graed]_

 _[roleplay]_

 _[humans elves nazi zombies fbi and stuff]_

Kyle rounded the backyard of his house.

 _[Whose side did you pick?]_

He stole a glance at Kenny's place and saw light coming through the cracked windows. The man was probably texting from his room or sitting on the couch, still wearing his ancient sweatpants. A random thought suggested paying him a visit, but Kyle pushed it away.

 _[i was a human princess]_

The reply was both ridiculous and expected.

* * *

Thursday and Friday flew by without any major disturbances except for the Friday newspaper Kyle read during the breakfast. It revealed ManPig's fourth victim - Emily Green, a middle-aged brunette that had been working in the local library for the past year. The police took every lead they could but still were unable to track her down. Redhead people let out a shy sigh of relief now that someone unfitting had been kidnapped.

After some careful thinking, Kyle decided to stick to his previous theory. Emily Green had to have red as her natural color; she must have concealed the truth somehow. The woman didn't have any close relatives, nor did she have any friends, so no one could confirm that her religion was the reason of her disappearance. Kenny supported the man wholeheartedly, and so did Stan. Both texted Kyle occasionally.

Then came Saturday, and Kyle woke up feeling determined. Stan had promised to start teaching him the basics of shooting this weekend, and he was more than willing to learn. The man got out of his bed and hurried to the bathroom for a shower; a quick glance at the mirror told him that the bite mark on his shoulder had no desire to fade.

Kyle returned to his room several minutes later with a towel around his hips and another one thrown over his shoulder. A text from Stan was waiting for him.

 _[I'll pick u up in an hour]_

He sent an "Okay.", put the phone back on the table and went to raid the wardrobe. Kyle was used to wearing formal clothes because his job required it, but that didn't mean he preferred them to casual ones. Sweaters and t-shirts weren't as stylish but they felt a lot more comfortable.

When the man was ready, he came down for breakfast and found his parents watching TV: both Sheila and Gerald took the latest victim with a grain of salt and kept an ear out for new information.

"Good morning, Kyle," his mother greeted him. "Food is in the oven. Eat it while it's warm."

"Thanks, mom." He listened to her advice and headed into the kitchen. The Saturday newspaper was lying on the table, and he eyed it – no new photographs were plastered on the front page. Kyle nodded to himself and turned to the oven; as soon as he opened it, the heavenly smell of lasagna invaded his nose. The day was off to a good start.

Half an hour later Stan knocked on the door, and Kyle walked out of the kitchen to meet him. He pulled on an orange jacket instead of his coat and grabbed the green ushanka.

"I'll be back in the evening!" he informed his parents, opening the door. Stan greeted him with a wave of his hand and then gestured to a car that was parked by his house.

"It's gonna be fun," he said.

Kyle closed the door and followed his friend to the vehicle. The car was old and yet looked presentable, and he was surprised by the neat interior and leather seats. He took the passenger seat and waited for Stan to start the engine.

"South Park doesn't have a decent shooting range yet, so we're going to practice out of the town," Stan said as he sat down. He turned the key in the ignition. "Empty cans, plastic bottles and so on."

"Got it."

They took off, and Kyle relaxed, looking out of the window. Stan turned on the radio.

"You got any preferences?" he asked.

"I'm fine with anything as long as it's not about love." The hallucinations hadn't violated Kyle's life since the episode at the storage room, but he still had enough and didn't want to deal with anything of the sort.

Stan gave him a puzzled look but didn't question further.

The entire ride didn't take more than half an hour - they passed the gun shop without dropping by, so Kyle assumed his friend had prepared everything beforehand. They left the town, and Stan kept them on the road for another two minutes before turning right; he drove onto a dirt road, and Kyle watched as trees gathered into a forest wall up ahead. Before that wall resided a broad field – a deserted camping site.

"This is the place," Stan told him, dropping speed. He stopped the car at the end of the road and went to open the trunk. "I usually come here when I want to practice. See those shelves? We're gonna use them."

Kyle got out of the car as well and looked around, taking deep breaths on instinct – the air here was fresher than back in the town. He quickly saw what Stan was talking about, though he wouldn't call the poor constructions that. They were barely holding together.

"Here, take these." Stan handed him a set of empty cans. "Put them on the top. I'll handle the rest."

Kyle did as he was told and waited for Stan to finish with the bottles. After completing the task, his friend returned to the trunk of the car and opened a black sports bag that was lying inside. He pulled out a handgun and gave it to Kyle. "FNS, nine. Follow me."

Holding a gun wasn't as easy as Kyle had imagined. It was heavy and obviously loaded - knowing that made him feel anxious.

"There are few common stances," Stan told him as they took a convenient spot. "You'll try them all and pick the one that suits you best. Here, let me show you."

It took some time and effort, but eventually Kyle stopped on the Weaver stance. It seemed most natural to him, and he felt safer with having one foot behind him for additional support. Stan made sure the stance was correct and stepped back.

"Have you ever used a real gun before?" he asked.

"No, but I've done some research," Kyle answered. "I need to line up the sights, right?"

"Yeah. Focus the front sight on your target, but remember that the front sight should always be in the middle of the rear sight."

Kyle brought his hands a little higher. "Done. I'm focusing on that bottle in the middle."

"Don't look at the bottle itself," Stan advised. "Always watch the front sight. It may be a bit tricky because the target will blur, but you'll get used to it."

"Uh huh."

"Keep the grip firm and shoot."

Kyle pressed the trigger. The gun fired, and his hands jerked up along with his thoughts; he'd watched videos of people shooting and had a general idea of what a shot should feel like, but reality turned out to be different.

"You missed," Stan pointed out. Kyle stared at the bottles and saw them all intact. "You need to squeeze the hell out of that gun or you won't be able to shoot anything. Concentrate on the front sight. Keep calm and try again."

So Kyle did, again and again, till his hands were steady and mind cool. Shooting the targets wasn't that difficult, but none of the bottles or cans he aimed at were moving. Live targets would be a real challenge.

"Good, you're getting the hang of it," Stan said when another bottle fell to the ground, pierced right through. That was a praise Kyle had been waiting and hoping for, and he scooped his confidence out of it. "Shoot the rest, and we're done for today."

"Okay."

He went on with the training, and his friend watched and nodded in approval, making rare comments whenever he saw something that didn't satisfy him. When all the targets were finally off, Kyle turned in the gun, and Stan tucked it back into the bag. They cleaned the scattered bottles and cans and returned to the car.

"You were right," Kyle said. "It was fun."

"I know. Gonna be even better tomorrow."

Stan turned the key and started the engine while Kyle sank into the seat, overwhelmingly pleased by his success. It wasn't a drastic step towards standing against the pig person, but it was a step nonetheless. He closed his eyes and smiled.

 _The whispers in the morning_

 _Of lovers sleeping tight_

He jumped.

 _Are rolling by like thunder now_

 _As I look in your eyes..._

"God dammit-!"

"Sorry, dude, my bad!" Stan's voice reached him, and the music came to an abrupt stop. Kyle pressed a hand to his heaving chest.

"What happened?!" he blurted, watching as his friend fumbled with the buttons on the stereo.

"Wrong radio station. Jesus Christ, Kyle, you're pale… I didn't know you hated love songs that much."

"I don't, I just…" Kyle sighed. He didn't even want to begin explaining the whole fairy tale situation. "It's okay, Stan. Let's just go."

"…right."

They drove backwards from the field, got to the pavement road and turned towards the town. Kyle's hand dropped on his lap, and he kept telling himself that it was okay, he wasn't suffering from the illusions yet.

Stan's worried glances didn't help.

* * *

Song: The Power of Love by Celine Dion


	6. Chapter 6

A short buzzing sound broke the peaceful silence of Kyle's bedroom on Sunday, followed by a loud beep. The man's eyelids fluttered, and for a moment his blissfully unconscious state battled against the intrusion, tugging at the strings of Kyle's mind and pulling him back into the dream. Yesterday hadn't really been an exhausting day, but the week itself was intense, and his body begged for additional hours of sleep. Still, Kyle wasn't a fan of ignoring incoming messages, so he rolled on his side and stuck out a hand, searching for his phone blindly. When his fingers bumped into the device, it vibrated again, and he groaned. Double messages rarely meant spam.

 _[Hey we've got a change of plans. Nothing major, I'll explain everything when we meet]_

 _[Pick u up in 15 mins]_

Kyle squinted his eyes at the message, dragging the information through his yet unoiled brain gears. Then he noticed the little numbers on top of the last text he'd received, and woke up immediately - it was half past eleven. He'd overslept.

The phone was thrown on the pillow without care, forgotten for the time being, and Kyle strolled out of the room. Fifteen minutes were hardly enough for a normal shower, dressing up and a breakfast combined, so he'd have to hurry up. The man flew into the bathroom, pulled off his t-shirt, and the first thing he checked was the bite mark on his shoulder. A tiny smile found its way to Kyle's face when he saw it fading: just a few more days, and it would be gone completely, leaving his skin free of Kenny's unwanted gift. He brushed the mark with his fingertips, let the smile calm and climbed into the tub.

Soon the man was back in his room and smelling good. Minutes passed by in a flash, though, or maybe it was Stan who arrived too early – at any rate, Kyle was still busy putting on his clothes when the doorbell rang. He tsked and stumbled out into the corridor, pulling on the remaining sock. His mother glanced at him from the living room below as she was approaching the door.

"It's Stan," Kyle told her, coming down the stairs. The smell of fried chicken crept into his nostrils, and his mouth watered.

Sheila let his friend into the living room. They exchanged polite greetings, and she walked up to her son who'd lowered himself on one knee and was now lacing his boots.

"Kyle, you need to eat," she said.

"It's alright." He stood back up. "We'll grab something on our way, so don't worry. I'll be back in the evening."

Sheila didn't look very pleased with the promise but let his son have his way anyway. Kyle took his jacket and ushanka from the rack and joined Stan by the door.

"Hey, dude," his friend greeted him.

"Hey. You said there was a change of plans?"

"Yeah." Stan opened the door and gestured at the parked car. "I want to take someone with us. A friend. Do you mind?"

They left Kyle's house and directed their feet to the vehicle.

"No, I don't." Kyle shook his head. He supposed it would be okay if someone else tagged along and saw his attempts at handling the gun; perhaps that friend of Stan's would offer some advice as well.

They got into the car, and Stan fumbled with his phone for half a minute before starting the engine. He was careful with the radio this time, so no cheesy songs jumped on Kyle's nerves when the speakers came to life. Kyle, who'd been preparing himself for the attack just in case, lowered his guard and relaxed.

"He's waiting for us," Stan said, tucking his phone into a pocket. "There's a restaurant next to our meeting point, so he'll get us some food."

"Thanks."

They drove off. When Stan had said they'd be picking up his friend, Kyle had thought he meant someone who was living in the same area as them. However, after a series of turns and traffic lights he noticed that their route hadn't changed very much, and soon the residential district was pushed away by the shopping part of South Park. Stan watched the buildings they covered but didn't slow down, and it wasn't long before almost all the restaurants Kyle knew of were left behind.

"So… that friend of yours, where is he waiting for us, exactly?" he asked. It wasn't that Kyle was picky about his food - he was simply curious. The police department showed up ahead, and Stan took a turn to the right as they reached it. That left them with few options.

"We're almost there." His choice of words was vague, and that suddenly rang a bell. A rather disturbing bell, too. There were only two restaurants they'd been left with right now, and one of them was City Wok, a place where Kenny happened to be working on Sundays. Kyle eyed his friend warily.

"Does this restaurant serve Chinese by any chance?" he asked, and instead of answering, Stan pointed at the front window. Kyle's answer emerged from a small white building with a sharp edged roof common to Asian architecture, wearing his usual parka and holding three City Wok paper bags. With a sigh, Kyle pressed a palm to his forehead.

"You could have told me, you know."

"Told you what?" Stan asked as he was stopping by the sidewalk, and Kyle didn't have enough time to specify his query because the back door flew open, and a lithe body threw itself merrily on the double seat. Kenny closed the door, dropped the bags he'd been carrying and leaned forward, placing his wrists on the backrests. His hand brushed against Kyle's shoulder.

"Thanks for your order and please come back again!" He grinned at Stan and then turned to face the other man. His expression softened. "Fancy meeting _you_ here."

"Hi, Kenny."

Kyle's eyes lingered on the bright, open smile and then slid away. Several days had passed since he'd last seen Kenny, and he'd started to suspect that both of them remained in some kind of a safe zone as long as they didn't cross their paths. This was no longer the case, yet Kenny didn't appear to be affected by anything out of the ordinary, and Kyle could hear nothing but the engine roar as the car left the sidewalk. No music was gnawing at his ears, and the outside world looked the same. They were good, for now.

"Thanks for taking me with you," Kenny said, returning to the back seat. Kyle flashed a glance at the mirror above and saw him lying down and putting his head on top of his crossed hands. "It's been a while since I practiced."

"No problem, dude," Stan told him without looking away from the road. "Just don't distract Kyle too much. He's got a lot to learn."

"Sure thing."

The car sped up, leaving the town behind.

"Which reminds me, when are you planning to restock your supplies?"

Kenny's reflection rubbed its chin thoughtfully. "Dunno. When I have enough money, I suppose. But if you want to lend me your gun, I-"

"No," Stan cut him off. "You lost yours, and I don't want you to lose mine too."

Kyle frowned. He couldn't be one hundred percent certain if Stan knew about Mysterion's identity or not, but the man sounded like that was no secret for him. Which wouldn't be too surprising, taking into account that he and Kenny were friends, and Stan was the one who'd told Kyle about the hero in the first place. Kyle looked over his shoulder with a questioning stare, and Kenny nodded.

"Yeah. He knows," the man said, then took out his phone and began typing something. Seconds later, Kyle's pocket vibrated, though it was too quiet to be heard in a moving car, and Stan didn't catch it.

 _[he doesnt remember about my ability]_

 _[i stopped telling him after a while]_

 _[he doesnt know about our situation either]_

Kyle put the phone back without replying. "So I'm not the only one who's seen Mysterion's face. When did you find out?"

"In the elementary school," Stan answered, turning the wheel. They drove onto the dirt road, and the car started to shake as they covered its rough surface. The camping site grew closer. "Craig knows too. And possibly Tweek."

"Craig keeps me updated," Kenny added, sitting up as they reached the end of the road. "And I do the same for him when I can."

The car stopped, and the three of them got out. Kyle was about to join Stan by the trunk when Kenny stopped him, taking a hold of the man's upper arm with a barely audible "wait". Kyle's breath hitched, and he observed as Kenny bent and fetched one of the paper bags from the back seat.

"Stan told me you haven't eaten yet," the man said, handing the bag to Kyle. "Here, I hope you like noodles. We'll prepare the targets."

Kyle accepted the offered food without objections and leaned back on the side of the car. The smell had been driving him crazy for the past ten minutes or so, and he didn't want to know how poorly he'd perform at the upcoming practice on an empty stomach. "Thanks."

The man nodded and walked off to help Stan with the items.

It wasn't that big of a deal, watching them place empty cans and bottles on the wood planks, and yet Kyle couldn't help following Kenny's movements and mentally writing them down. He assured himself that it was a necessity; that he needed to keep track of their mutual curse. The explanation worked smoothly… until Kenny caught him staring. Kyle didn't consider himself a shy person, though, and thus didn't look away – besides, there was no point in hiding when he'd already been discovered. Kenny wasn't shy either, and their eyes locked, keeping them idle on their spots.

"Something's wrong?" he asked, and Kyle didn't bother answering. He just continued to stare; Kenny's eyes were strangely pure, blue, and there was something in them that had Kyle shackled to them like a prisoner. A weird twinkle. Alluring.

Kenny made a step towards him.

"Kyle?"

 _It'll be dark. You'll be lying on your back, in your own bed, naked and with your legs spread wide apart. He'll be fucking you senseless. Panting. Watching you with those eyes._

Food got stuck in Kyle's throat. His system registered the jam, and he began coughing violently, almost letting go of the paper bag he was holding. He managed to put it on the roof of the car, and it was then when Kenny appeared by his side. Kyle panicked but didn't try to push him away.

"Kyle-!" Stan ran up to them with a concerned expression.

"It's- okay-" the man choked out. The tumult of coughs had hit him hard, but it was becoming easier to breathe with each passing second. "I'm good…"

"Be careful, alright?" Stan asked him before going back to the shelves. Kenny, however, didn't hurry to leave, and even though the whispers had fled, his eyes were still there, worried.

Kyle breathed in and out slowly.

"Whispers," he said. "Check."

Kenny gulped. Lowered his voice so that Stan wouldn't hear. "What did they say?"

"I'm not telling you that," Kyle stated in a strained voice. He looked at everything but the man beside him, and Kenny got the hint pretty easily. The corners of his mouth went up.

"Let me guess, they didn't talk about how good looking I am. Went straight to the good stuff."

"I'm not. Telling you," Kyle repeated coldly. "Did yours say anything?"

"Hm… No, nothing to report here," Kenny shrugged. "I guess we have separate timings."

"So… it's just me."

"Yep."

Kyle pressed his hands to his face.

"Don't worry, dude," Kenny pat him on the back. "I got you."

He'd probably meant to soothe Kyle's anxiousness with those words, but that didn't work – in fact, the effect was completely opposite. Kyle pressed his lips into a thin line.

"Guys! Are we gonna do anything today or what?" Stan cut in.

"Kyle-"

"He's right," Kyle muttered. "Let's get this over with."

The whispers were gone, and that was all that mattered now – Kyle told himself that as he left Kenny alone with his unfinished noodles. Sadly, the man wasn't very successful at convincing himself, and while he was able to keep on a neutral face, his thoughts were infested with pictures and phrases he couldn't dispel with a wave of his hand.

* * *

Kenny was persistent, in a subtle way. He didn't annoy Kyle with endless questions, and he let Stan do all the explanations, never interfering when Kyle made a mistake or misunderstood an instruction. He sat on the hood of Stan's car most of the time, munching noodles with beef and making rare comments. Despite that, Kyle could feel the man's eyes watching him: Kenny was waiting for another fit of coughs, for another meaningful stare, for another anything. He was studying Kyle's condition. Maybe there was more to it than that, but Kyle tried not to think about it because if he did, his aim degraded to an embarrassingly low level.

"Alright, that's enough," Stan finally said. "Dude, I'm gonna be frank with you. You did better yesterday."

"Well, I wasn't there to distract him with my beauty," Kenny laughed, hopping off the hood. Both men looked at him with identically unimpressed expressions.

"Don't be so full of yourself," Kyle grunted.

"Yeah, better finish those targets," Stan added with a wave at the remaining bottles. "Maybe that will help you shoot that freak _before_ he gets to you next time."

"If you insist."

Kenny approached them with a smirk, took the gun from Kyle's hold and aimed with one hand. Just like that, without using any stances or applying an additional grip, he shot the targets in rapid succession, stopping only when he ran out of bullets. He didn't miss a single bottle.

Stan whistled. "Man, how you managed to lose your gun is a mystery to me."

"Bad luck, I guess," Kenny said, surrendering the weapon.

Kyle watched them wordlessly.

After cleaning the shattered mess they'd caused by the shelves, the three of them returned to the car. Kyle spent the entire time replaying Kenny's performance in his head: he'd seen people shoot like that in the movies but hadn't expected to witness such skill in real life. Kenny showed no reluctance when he acted, and his hand didn't tremble as he aimed; his confidence and perception, his ability to stay relaxed – Kyle found those traits quite impressive. He glanced up at the mirror: Kenny was lying on the back seat, humming a song he didn't recognize.

 _I fall to pieces_

 _Each time I see you again_

 _I fall to pieces_

 _How can I be just your friend?_

"Do you want to drop by the gun shop?" Stan asked, pulling him out of his thoughts. Kyle flinched and drew his eyes away from the mirror.

"Y-yeah, let's do that," he mumbled, looking out of the window. "Change the station, by the way. Thanks."

 _You want me to act_

 _Like we've never kissed_

 _You want me to forget_

 _Pretend we've never met_

The music continued to play, and Kyle shifted on his seat uncomfortably.

"Stan?" he called, and his friend cleared his throat.

"Kyle. The radio isn't on yet."

"…oh."

An amused chuckle rose from the back seat, and Kyle had never been this close to punching the lights out of Kenny.

* * *

 _[howr u feelin babe]_

 _[still listening to love songs]_

 _[well bang ok]_

The sun was setting outside, painting the streets of South Park orange and pink. Most people spent the remaining hours of the weekend laughing and having a good time, but Kyle was far from that. He was lying in his bed with a straight face, surrounded by sparkles and floating soap bubbles, and his fingers danced with the letters on the screen.

 _[I'm blocking you.]_

Ugly giggling came from the bedside table: a horde of irritating little pixies had thrown an autumn festival on it, and they were currently launching fireworks and arcane missiles. Kyle wanted to burn the entire thing down, to rip their tiny wings off, but at the same time he understood that he would only end up damaging the furniture.

 _[nonono]_

 _[dude]_

 _[u cant block me]_

He glared at his phone.

 _[And why not?]_

 _[beacuse if]_

The string of messages went quiet for a moment - even the dots took a break. Kenny didn't like to put much pressure on his brain when he was communicating through texts, therefore his replies were usually quick and painful to read. His silence could mean two things: either he'd found something really interesting and forgot he was in the middle of a conversation, or he had no clue how to answer Kyle's question.

Kyle poked one of the bubbles. It burst into several smaller ones.

 _[if u do that]_

His eyes flickered back to the screen.

 _[i wont be able to flirt with u anymore]_

He snorted. At least Kenny was honest about his feelings.

 _[10/10.]_

 _[I'm still blocking you.]_

 _[NONONONNOn]_

"Kyle, dear! The food is ready!" Sheila's voice came from behind the closed door, accompanied by dull footsteps. Kyle stretched his hands and put the helplessly vibrating phone into the back pocket of his jeans.

"Coming!"

 _Wise men say only fools rush in,_

 _But I can't help falling in love with you_

"It's okay," the man assured himself as he was stepping down into the living room. "You can handle this."

 _Shall I stay, would it be a sin_

 _If I can't help falling in love with you_

Kyle knew that he had a problem. He knew it was growing stronger and stronger with each passing hour, and suspected he wouldn't be able to hold it together if Kenny appeared in front of him right now. Kyle had already gone through four stages of depression in the privacy of his room and was currently at fifth, accepting his inevitable future with crippled consent. Making Kenny nervous was a little consolation, and it didn't change anything, really. Kyle had to make the hallucinations go away, and he only knew one means of doing that.

When he entered the kitchen, his father was sitting at the table with a business magazine in his hands, and his mother was rummaging through the fridge. Kyle took an empty chair and began piling roasted potato pieces and chicken slices on his plate, careful not to let bubbles stick to them – imaginary or not, that mix would see his appetite out. His phone squeaked one last time in a desperate attempt to get his attention and then stopped showing signs of life. Kenny gave up.

"We're out of milk," Sheila stated with a sigh, closing the fridge. "And lemons. Looks like we won't be having any pie today."

"I'll go buy some," Kyle offered. He didn't want to leave the house, but the perspective of going back to the pixie festival was even less appealing. He could try making use of the walk itself too, he assumed, if he invited Kenny along and… made out with him somewhere. The idea was killing him on the inside, but he realized that there was nothing else to turn to. Besides, kissing had been enough before, and Kenny had said he was free of his visions so far, so, theoretically, if Kyle stepped over himself and survived a short lip-to-lip contact, he'd avoid a more devastating outcome and wouldn't have to pay for it.

"Thank you, Kyle."

"No problem."

After emptying the plate and washing it, Kyle left the kitchen and went straight to the front door – he still had some money left in his jacket and didn't need to go upstairs to fetch more. He pulled out his phone, thinking about the best way to ask for an intimate favor without humiliating himself, and a dozen of unread messages saluted him all at once. All from the same sender.

 _[kyle pls]_

 _[if u block me ill be sad]_

 _[sad kenny]_

 _[very very sad]_

 _[and when hell be on patrol hell see them bastartds threatening someone with a knife]_

 _[and hell break in and say]_

 _[sry im in no mood for fighting]_

 _[cause kyle is ignoring me]_

Kyle suppressed the urge to facepalm: sometimes Kenny behaved like a ten year old. He typed in a late reply.

 _[Where are you?]_

Contrary to what had been expected due to the amount of received texts, Kenny didn't answer right away. After wasting half a minute on watching the unchanging screen, Kyle gave up waiting and went to put on his boots. He laced them, pulled on his jacket, counted the money he had in his pockets… that was plenty of time for Kenny to write back, but he didn't. Something was keeping him busy.

 _Close your eyes, give me your hand, darling_

 _Do you feel my heart beating_

Kyle threw a puzzled look at the man's house when he was stepping outside and saw no light in the windows. Kenny was probably working extra hours at City Wok - that's why he didn't answer.

"Damn it."

He wondered if that really was the case. If so, he'd have to take the bus-

A message popped up and washed away the rest of that thought.

 _[I'm on patrol.]_

Kyle's feet came to a halt, then resumed their pace. _Perfect punctuation,_ he thought, and a memory of encountering something similar surfaced in his head on instant. He'd seen this once - when he'd asked Kenny about the latest ManPig's victim. Kenny had brushed the topic off back then, leaving the question open, and now Kyle had a vague guess. If Kenny was on patrol, he was wearing the cape...

Apparently, the man gravitated towards a different model of behavior whenever he put the mask on. Mysterion wasn't eager to send hundreds of messages per minute, and he remembered his Grammar lessons well, not to mention Kenny always dropped his voice to an unnaturally low level when he was wearing the costume. The transformation had possibly taken its roots in his childhood, influenced by famous comic heroes.

With that in mind, Kyle typed another text.

 _[I was hoping to see you. It's important.]_

He watched as the dots morphed into another message from the hero.

 _[Are you in danger?]_

 _[No.]_

 _[Visions?]_

His fingers hovered over the screen. Hesitated.

 _[Yes.]_

Kyle continued walking forward, deep in thought. Wondered if Kenny considered this reason heavy enough to postpone his duties.

 _[How bad is it?]_

Kyle looked around and detected a crowd of mermaids occupying a huge pirate ship on the playground – they didn't look frustrated by the lack of water and instead swayed their hips to the music and sang along. Then there were the omnipresent bubbles floating all around, glittering rainbows, falling stars and stuff... In general, Kyle supposed he could make it through another couple of hours, but he didn't know for sure.

He decided one word would be enough.

 _[Bad.]_

Mysterion went silent for a minute. Then answered with a question Kyle had been hoping to hear.

 _[Where are you?]_

 _[Just passed the playground. I'm heading to the grocery store.]_

 _[I'll be there in fifteen minutes. Wait for me.]_

Kyle put the phone away and picked up speed: the store was already in his line of sight, and fifteen minutes were more than enough to get the items his mother needed. He tried to distract himself from the prickly feeling in his chest by thinking about the delicious pie she would make once all the ingredients were within her reach, then about getting to his warm bed, then about how quiet his room would soon be… but Kenny – or rather Mysterion – kept interfering everywhere. In the end, Kyle's thoughts were overloaded with the fairy tale again, and the closer his meeting with Mysterion grew, the less confident he felt. When the last minute finally passed, he emerged from the store with a grim face and with mountains pushing down on his back.

"Kyle. Over here," Mysterion's voice called him, and Kyle spotted the man coming out of a narrow alley to his left. His costume was by all means incomplete: the pants he was wearing were a shade darker than his shirt, the gloves weren't matching, and the green "M" could have used some additional lining. He'd also put on the old cape, which was hardly covering his thighs with its torn edges. In contrast to all that disaster, the underwear seemed to be feeling great.

That, however, didn't hold Kyle's attention for long. Around them, the insanity skyrocketed, thrived, throwing its every fraction directly into his face. His heart was racing, his hands were shaking, and he couldn't recall what he'd been so afraid of just a few seconds ago. His whole purpose reduced to touching the caped man, to embracing him tight, to devouring his breath.

"Kyle! I don't have all night!" Mysterion hurried him, and Kyle followed the unspoken command without doubts. Even more, he didn't simply come up to the hero, he took hold of his upper arms and practically pushed him back into the poorly lighted space between the buildings. There was a secluded area further down, circled by walls and hidden from the rest of the street. "Kyle-?!"

Mysterion was forced to back away under the man's spontaneous charge, but protested only half-heartedly. Within a moment, Kyle had him pressed to a chain fence; he let go of the bag with the groceries and leaned in for a kiss. He didn't get it, though – the hero caught his face.

"Wait. You don't know what you're doing."

"But I do," Kyle objected weakly, consulting whatever common sense he had left. "If I kiss you, it will go away, and everything will be back to normal."

"No, it won't," Mysterion disagreed. "Believe me, Kyle, this look you're wearing, I know it. Better wait till I'm done with patrolling. I'm still sane, don't drag me into this now."

The music absorbed his words. Kyle raised his hands and placed them on the man's cheeks, sliding his fingers under the hood.

"No," he said. "Let me try it. I will feel better, I'm sure I will."

Mysterion shook his head. "You have no idea what you're asking for."

"Kenny. Please."

The caped man froze. His eyes scanned Kyle's face for a hint of uncertainty, a flaw he could use to make the man wait for a while longer. There was none. Kyle was adamant, his expression was the essence of unwavering determination, and he kept his lips slightly parted, ready to act as soon as Mysterion's guard was down. His thumbs brushed against the tips of the man's ears, palms lying flat on the pulsing veins of his neck.

"One kiss."

Mysterion groaned. "Fine. Have it your way. But don't say I didn't warn you." He threw a quick glance around the area to make sure they were alone, then focused on Kyle's face again. The hands on his neck pulled down, and this time he obeyed.

Kyle sighed into the kiss as he blocked the existence of the outer world and listened solely to his instincts. Despite the initial unwillingness to do this, Mysterion melted into the kiss as well; his hands went to rest on the small of Kyle's back and pressed their bodies together. Kyle shivered, felt the touch spreading on his skin and invading his veins, rushing down directly to his stomach and lower. The feeling didn't disturb him, only fueled his enthusiasm further, and he put some force into what he was doing. Didn't even grasp what was happening anymore.

"Kyle, wait-" Mysterion whispered against his lips, but Kyle didn't want to break the connection they were sharing and shoved his tongue into the man's mouth instead. He heard a muffled moan, and it too surged down. "Kyle-"

Mysterion stiffened, leaning back on the fence. Kyle followed. His hand moved down from the hero's neck to stay on his chest, palming the erratic heartbeat that was coming from the inside. Every thump, every twitch, every breath Mysterion was taking – everything he was made of was essential, and Kyle savored each fragment he came across. He bit the man's lip, smiling, and was about to lick it when Mysterion suddenly turned his head away.

"Wait," he grunted, but it was evident from his unsteady voice that he didn't want to end this, so Kyle shifted closer in an attempt to nullify his effort. Mysterion lifted his head to avoid being pulled in again, breathed in and out shakily. Kyle attached his mouth to the hero's neck.

He heard a startled gasp, and then Mysterion was pushing him away.

"Kyle," he choked out, "wait. Snap out of it. You're hard."

"What…?"

Talking was the last thing on Kyle's mind, but the hero didn't let him proceed, keeping his hands firm on the man's shoulders. Kyle took a deep breath, left with no choice but to hold himself back and concentrate; the air was blazing, his thoughts were clouded, and it was next to impossible to tear his eyes away from Mysterion's mouth. Once the kiss was broken, unbearable music enveloped his head, and he nearly cried out in frustration.

"No, Kyle I… I know what you're feeling. I really do," Mysterion rasped. "I went through the same thing in the mall, and… shit, I think you've triggered it just now, too."

Kyle didn't say anything to that, just nodded once, showing that he had heard. Now that he was experiencing this torture first hand, he couldn't understand how Kenny had managed to live through an entire conversation in the storage room. He'd made a serious mistake thinking a simple kiss would be enough - should have listened to what Mysterion had warned him about.

"You're not feeling better either," the hero pointed out.

"So what." Kyle willed himself to calm down, but failed miserably, and anger sparked inside him, melting with seething lust he couldn't suppress. He could feel the world around him standing still and yet burning; and at the same time it was completely empty. The only thing that mattered was standing right in front of him.

"So we have to continue, and I don't want you to blame me after. You started this."

"I know."

"We can't leave it like this."

"I know."

Mysterion released him cautiously, ready to resist if Kyle decided to do something he wasn't prepared for. When Kyle didn't move at all, the hero brought his hands together and took off his gloves. He tucked them under his belt.

"What are you doing?" Kyle asked absently, already knowing the answer and dreading it. Mysterion pressed his bare hands to the man's chest, then moved them down, caressing Kyle's stomach in an attempt to soothe him.

"Helping you," he answered. "Just go with it. It's the only thing you can do."

His fingers fumbled with Kyle's belt. Unbuckled it. Kyle watched with wide eyes as the button on his jeans was popped open and the fly was unzipped; he wanted to say something, to make the situation easier for himself somehow, but the effort was crushed when Mysterion's hand slipped into the opening and cupped his trapped cock.

"N-no…"

The hero stopped immediately but didn't withdraw his hand.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked.

"I… don't know. Fuck, dude, how _should_ I know…" Kyle dropped his head on the man's shoulder. He couldn't lie to himself, he wanted this. But he was scared of it too, never thought he would let someone he'd known for two weeks touch him this way. In a place like this. He was powerless against the spell the illusions had casted on him, was in no position to make the wrong decision. "Goddamn it." He gathered himself. "Okay. Do it."

Mysterion didn't need to be told twice. When he received clear permission, his hand slid up to the waistband of Kyle's underwear and dived underneath. Kyle let out an unintentional moan as warm fingers wrapped around him and drew away his complains.

"K-Kenny…"

"Hm. Hold on." The hand gave him a brief squeeze and disappeared. Mysterion brought it up and spat on his palm - normally, Kyle would have found the act disgusting, but for some reason, this time he thought it was hot. Wet grasp felt a lot better on his skin, too.

His ordinary self would have despised him. Yelled at him. Renounced him, maybe. Kyle still clung to the remains of his common sense, but with each stroke he was getting the link he'd established lost its fragile threads one by one. The man felt ashamed by himself, couldn't raise his head and admit he was enjoying the treatment - even to himself. He was awfully embarrassed when his voice got out of hand for a second or when he shifted his leg and accidentally found out that Mysterion was no less excited. The hand on his cock twitched, then resumed its actions with renewed vigor.

Kyle lost it. Thrust into the grip.

"Ah-"

His rational side was thrown into a bottomless pit and erased, and yet it wasn't good enough. Kyle still wasn't content, wanted something different - a change he wasn't yet aware of. He searched for it, dug deep, and soon was able to see it: Mysterion's chest was heaving as he breathed through his mouth, and Kyle kept staring at his quivering lips and tongue. Those would feel far better around him than the hand, he could bet; his head filled with absurdity of his own desire, but he was past caring.

"Kenny..." The name came out urgent.

Mysterion looked up, and Kyle swallowed: the expression he saw on the man's face was a mix of lust, painful self-restraint and confusion. Mysterion was more vulnerable than he'd imagined… still, he wasn't going to back down even if words got stuck in his throat, refusing to form a proper demand. Kyle put his hands on the hero's shoulders and pulled him down.

"Wha-"

Mysterion didn't get it at first, and resisted. Halted. Then, as the implication hit him, looked into Kyle's eyes with a silent question. He never received any answer because the man was in no condition to talk, but his flushed face seemed to be enough for the hero to make his choice. They reached an agreement, and Mysterion's back moved against the fence with a sharp sound as he squatted.

"I didn't have much practice," he warned, but Kyle was too far gone to hear him. At this point, all he believed in was getting a blowjob, and he didn't think about consequences. They were irrelevant.

Cold air bit Kyle's exposed skin when Mysterion tugged down his jeans along with his underwear. He trembled, and his left hand jumped to the fence, clutching it for support, while his right came to rest on the hero's hood. Mysterion pressed his mouth to the side of his cock, and Kyle was lost again, almost coming just from that.

"Ahh-!" He felt his entire body burn, and bit his lip so diligently it hurt. Mysterion chuckled.

"We're still outside," he reminded. "Keep your voice down."

After that, of course, he did all he could to make the task impossible to achieve. The hero's lips parted, and he took Kyle in his mouth, which instantly made the latter eager to get as far as Mysterion would and wouldn't let him. He managed to thrust once and was rewarded with a bite as the hero coughed – it hurt Kyle a bit, but he liked it. Mysterion, on the other hand, did not.

"Dude!" He forgot to put on the voice and sounded a lot like Kenny. "Don't do that!"

Kyle didn't say anything. Luckily for him, Mysterion gave him another chance, though his hands were now keeping a strong grip on the man's thighs and prevented him from thrusting forward again. Kyle's knees felt weak anyway, and he brought his second hand to the fence to keep himself upright. Somewhere in the back of his head he knew that he'd have to return the favor, and the thought didn't strike him as bad. Then Mysterion's tongue was making its way up his shaft, and he forgot about everything.

He didn't know how he would live once this was over - it felt so good he thought he could include it into his schedule. Kyle was pretty sure it would have been even better if Mysterion didn't have his mask on and they were facing each other; that assumption made him want to take the piece of cloth off, to pull the hood down and reveal Kenny's face. But he knew that Mysterion wouldn't approve, so he let it be and closed his eyes as the hero took him in again, rubbing him with his hand where his lips couldn't reach. He lapped at the head, and Kyle's voice rushed out in a messy string of syllables.

"Mmmh- ah-"

He was practically chewing his lower lip, and that wasn't enough to keep him quiet. Each lick Kyle was receiving drove him wild and literally dragged the release out of him. The man tipped his head back as he felt it coming, wanted to warn Mysterion, but it pierced him faster. He spilled; the hero was taken by surprise and got some in his mouth. He jerked away when he realized what was happening, and the rest hit his cheek and his hood. Kyle panted, pulling his jeans up.

"Kyle…" Mysterion started, cleaning his face with his wrist, but the man didn't let him finish. He took the hero's hand and pulled him to his feet – wasn't hard, Mysterion was in a very bad shape by now.

The illusions were no more, and the music had faded, leaving Kyle to think for himself - still, he chose to stay disconnected from his rational self a bit longer. He shoved the hero into the fence, and Mysterion gasped, but the protest died in his throat as soon as Kyle's hands dropped to his belt and undid it. Kyle unzipped the fly without any hesitation and stuck his hand in, making Mysterion moan and rub against it frantically.

He didn't even have to do much. At this rate the whole process would take less than-

"Come on, you guys, hurry up!" a high voice rose from the alley, and Kyle froze. Mysterion didn't, and continued to move his hips in a feverish attempt to get more pleasure from the contact.

"Mh-h-"

"Dude, stop," Kyle whispered, withdrawing his hand.

The hero flinched.

"No, Kyle, you can't-" Mysterion – Kenny – whimpered in his usual voice, clutching his hand and pulling it back to his groin. "I need this-"

"No, I'm sure she hid it in here! This spot is on the list!" the voice announced, closer, and to his horror Kyle understood that it belonged to a kid – a boy from the elementary school, most probably. He jumped away from Kenny as if someone had set him on fire.

"Kyle, please-" Kenny was shaking so bad he could barely stand straight. Kyle stepped away, and all color drained from his face.

"Go! Hide somewhere! We can't let them see us," Kyle said, then looked away as footsteps got closer. He started to walk away, wondering if he could convince the kids to find a better place to play. He rounded the corner, and there they were, four little kids - just like he'd thought. He blocked their way, giving Kenny more time to hide, and they glared at him. One of them raised his hand.

"Trespasser!"

"Technically, he's not trespassing anything. He's a boy," another boy objected, then stepped forward. "You need to let us through, mister. There's something in there that rightfully belongs to us."

Kyle folded his hands across his chest and remained where he was like a good guard. "And what exactly is it?"

"It's… it's uh…"

"It's the game I've been waiting for!" the third boy cut in. "The "Hotline", collector's edition!"

"Yeah, his girlfriend - sorry, former girlfriend - took the box and hid it from him," the fourth giggled. Among them all, he seemed to be the only one amused by the fact. "According to their data it should be lying around here somewhere."

"Yeah, so let us through!" The first chirped.

Kyle threw a look around the corner, checking if Kenny was gone. He saw no one, felt the unease lift and moved out of the way. "Sure, go ahead."

The boys surged forward and began searching the area, looking under every corner and stone (except for the fourth kid who was typing random messages and distracting them). Kyle joined them in the task but wasn't as interested in the box they mentioned and instead kept looking for the caped man, hoping that if someone found him, it would be his own eyes. Thankfully, neither he, nor the boys were successful, and after a few minutes the search was finished.

"Dude! Stop with the messages already!" one of them shouted at the fourth.

"Yeah, just let me take a photo of us all here, cheese! Great, now how should I tag it? Oh! Hashtag: Fred is a loser. And hashtag: green ushankas are super lame!" He looked at Kyle and shrugged. "Though personally I think it's cool. But, you know, authority and all."

"Shut up!" The third took him by the elbow. "Let's go already! If parents find out we're here, we'll be grounded! Sorry, mister!"

Kyle simply stood there and watched as they left, trying not to let that ushanka comment get to him. When he couldn't see the boys anymore, he turned around and called:

"Kenny? Are you here?"

No one answered. The man had probably jumped over the fence and escaped, though Kyle wasn't sure it was possible in his condition. He called again and then one more time for good measure, and when there was no answer, fished his phone out and dialed Kenny's number. The device had been on Mysterion before and could help locating him now.

Except it didn't, and Kyle ended up hearing nothing but steady beeps coming from the little speakers. The man didn't break the call though and kept the phone close to his ear as he approached the bag he'd left on the ground and picked it up. He returned to the alley.

Kenny still wasn't answering. Kyle decided to send him a message.

 _[Dude, I'm sorry that happened. Call me when you can.]_

 _[I'm going home.]_

The street showed up ahead, and he exited, holding the phone in his hand and waiting for the call to happen. Any second now, it would crush into his phone with a cheerful melody…

But Kenny didn't call.

* * *

Songs:

I Fall To Pieces by Patsy Cline

I Cant Help Falling In Love With You by Elvis Presley

Eternal Flame by The Bangles


	7. Chapter 7

The window was open just slightly, but Kyle could hear _everything_.

The wind was howling somewhere in the distance, waking up dormant tree crowns and tearing their leaves off with its rough pushes. A stray cat hissed by the wooden fence next to his house, followed by rapid thumps and excited barking of a neighbor's dog. A lonely bus made a stop by the playground, picking up yawning residents of South Park. A man shouted several drunken profanities before throwing his bottle at someone's closed door…

But even with all those sounds, the world was blissfully quiet. Kyle sighed and rolled on his side, facing the emptiness of his room: the only source of light here was the bedside clock with its dull white numbers. It showed half past five in the morning, and for most people - including the Broflovskis - it was still too early to get up and begin a new day. Despite that, Kyle couldn't keep his eyes closed, and falling asleep was a task even more challenging.

Kenny's horrified face still surfaced in his thoughts. Kyle spent most of the night shifting around on the bed and waiting for his phone to go off, haunted by weak, trembling voice that asked for help only he could provide - but hadn't. Kyle knew there hadn't really been a lot of choices when he and Kenny were about to get busted, but he also realized that he was the one who'd started the whole thing and couldn't go through with it. He was the one who'd ruined Mysterion's patrol and made the hero unable to carry on.

Kenny might have taken the matter in his own hands and locked the illusions in a temporary cell, but even if so, he was probably feeling very neglected right now and didn't want to hear Kyle at all. Or maybe someone had gotten kidnapped while he was busy blowing the man behind a grocery store, and he couldn't forgive himself for that.

Of course, there was always the third option – an option that wore a pig mask and carried multiple weapons around… Kyle prayed that he wasn't the reason of unbearable silence, that Kenny was alive and well.

But that didn't stop the flood of what ifs, and he was worried sick. He had checked Kenny's windows on countless occasions only to find them black, sent him messages and gave him calls – those got the man zero response. In the end, when the first rays of light rose above the horizon, Kyle was so anxious he could barely stay in his bed, telling himself he'd ask Stan for help later, when the sun was just a little bit higher… He promised himself that, and yet his hand kept creeping towards the phone until he couldn't struggle anymore and took it, wondering if five forty was an acceptable time for calling.

The phone suddenly rang, and Kyle nearly dropped it.

"Hello?!"

He heard a relieved exhale.

 _"H-hey, Kyle,"_ Kenny's shivering voice greeted him. _"Sorry I'm calling this early, but I'm in a bit of… I mean, I need h-help."_

Kyle sank into the mattress as he watched the ceiling with a blank expression. His heart slammed against his ribs, threatening to break through and run away forever.

 _"Kyle-?"_

"Kenny," he whispered.

 _"Y-yeah, it's me. Listen, can you please pick me up? And bring me some clothes?"_

Those words were more than enough to send Kyle off the bed. He was in such a hurry his legs got tangled in the blanket, but he managed to keep his balance and kicked it out of the way. He dashed towards the wardrobe and all but bashed it open.

"Where are you?" he asked, his hands pushing the hangers apart as he searched for something more or less comfortable. He was thinner than Kenny, so most of his clothes would be too tight.

 _"I'm close to Tweek's coffee shop. At U-Stor-It."_

"The storages? I'm on my way."

Kyle felt the weight lift from his shoulders with each breath he heard from the other end of the line. Kenny was safe, and he didn't sound angry… though it puzzled Kyle why the man's voice was shivering this much. It was like he was standing in the middle of a freezer.

 _"Listen, I need to hang up. The phone isn't mine. But I'll meet you there, okay?"_

"Yeah… yeah, okay. I'll be there soon," Kyle promised, pulling on his jeans. He had been so overwhelmed by the call he didn't even bother looking at the number – simply hit the green button as fast as he could. Something must have happened to Kenny's phone, that's why he didn't answer. Kyle wanted to apologize for the previous evening so bad, wanted to say he would listen to Kenny's advice from now on… but he supposed everything could wait till they met face to face.

 _"Thank you,"_ Kenny murmured, and the call ended.

Kyle grabbed the clothes he'd picked for the man and made his way downstairs, past his parents' bedroom. He made sure not to produce much noise: it was too early for either of them to be up, and he would be back before they came down for breakfast anyway. Besides, Kyle knew exactly where to look for his father's keys; Gerald always put them on the bookshelf. The man snatched them from between two framed photographs at the top and bolted outside - it was chilly and dark, and he prayed Kenny was doing fine.

He got to the car and took his place before the steering wheel, dropping the clothes on the passenger seat. Normally, he wasn't very fond of driving and preferred to use his legs as the main means of transportation, but this case was extraordinary, so he started the engine and left his house behind.

The whole way to the U-Store-It territory didn't take more than fifteen minutes (Kyle knew that for sure because he kept throwing impatient glances at his wristwatch all the time) - but still, it felt like an eternity. After what seemed to be an endless loop of turns and zebra crossings, his long wait was finally over: the locked gates showed up ahead, and he spotted Kenny sitting on the sidewalk with his back pressed to the fence and a worn cloth wrapped around his entire form. To Kyle's surprise, the man wasn't alone; an old homeless couple was sharing a bunch of unfolded cardboard boxes with him. Small puffs of air were raising from their mouths as they talked about something he couldn't hear.

Kyle parked the vehicle by the sidewalk, lowering the window and trying to decide which question to ask first. The homeless man addressed Kenny before he did.

"Get lost, kid," he said affectionately.

Kenny rubbed his running nose. "T-thanks for helping."

"Sure, sure."

What happened next made Kyle's jaw drop to the bottom of the car. After thanking the couple, Kenny stood up from the ground and removed the cloth he'd been covering himself with - underneath was nothing but his stark naked, completely uninjured body. Kenny handed the cloth back to its owners, wrapped his hands around himself to preserve the remaining heat and then made a beeline to the passenger seat. The door opened, and he hopped inside, dumping Kyle's clothes on his lap.

"Kenny, what the hell is going on?" Kyle questioned as the man took a black hoodie from the pile. "What were you doing there and where are your clothes?"

"Do you have your phone on you?" Kenny asked in return, pulling the hoodie on.

"Yeah, so?"

"Before you ask anything else, check your notes. There should be one protected with a password only you know."

Kyle wanted to say something, to object, but words stuck to his tongue as a vague memory visited him. He could actually recall making an entry about something important when he and Kenny had been leaving the playground, but what it was about, he couldn't tell. While it didn't appear to be very relevant to the present, Kyle had decided not to ignore Kenny's demands anymore, so he took out his phone and looked for the note. He found it pretty quickly – there were only three locked ones, and all of them were pinned to the top of the list. The password fit perfectly.

 _[Kenny is immortal. If he dies, he will always come back the morning, but my memories will be erased or altered.]_

 _[Mon. 12 – Suicide in the alley.]_

Kyle stared at the content for a good minute.

"You just… disappeared, so I was looking for you," he muttered, bringing a hand to his forehead. "So I didn't? You killed yourself when I refused to go further?"

"Not really, no." Kenny thrust his legs into Kyle's sweatpants and lifted his hips to pull them up. "Things got so bad I couldn't think straight, so I crawled over the fence while you were distracting those kids, ran for about a minute, then fell to my knees and slit my throat."

Kyle dropped his eyes to his knees. "I'm sorry I let you down."

"Don't worry about it. Let's just avoid doing that kind of stuff outside from now on, okay?"

"Okay... But that still doesn't explain how you ended up naked and here of all places."

After adding another sentence to the note, Kyle tucked the phone away and returned his hands to the wheel. Kenny continued with the story as they drove off.

"Okay, so here comes the weird part." He said it like his ability wasn't weird at all. "After I die, I always wake up in my bed, but today I woke up outside the storages instead. Right where you found me. Those people lent me their blanket so I wouldn't freeze my ass off… and also their iPhone." He sank into the seat, rubbing his arms. "My belongings should have been lying by my side when I woke up, but I suppose they're waiting for me in my room. They've got to be somewhere, right?"

Kyle cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Everything okay?" Kenny asked. "Am I going too fast?"

"No, it's just… I was worried about you," Kyle admitted reluctantly, watching the road. "I made all of this happen, after all, even though you asked me not to. So I kind of… wrote you a lot of messages. And called you, like, twenty times."

Kenny didn't comment on that for a long moment, and eventually Kyle gave up and stole a look at him. The man was watching him back with a smile, and somehow, that smile was different from the ones Kyle had seen before. His cheeks felt hot.

"What," he said.

"I hope my phone is okay," Kenny answered, leaning on the backrest with his hands crossed behind his head. "I feel like I'm gonna have lots of joy checking it."

"You-"

"Eyes on the road, Kyle."

"Damn it." The man had no choice but to obey the command.

"Anyway, as I was saying, those two people were sitting next to me when I woke up. They told me they'd found me lying in front of them, and that's all I know. The old man, Tom- he had an iPhone 4, so I asked him if he could lend it to me. He agreed."

"Since when do homeless people have those things?" Kyle wondered.

"Since the model is apparently ancient. I asked him why he wasn't scared of me taking it, and he told me no one wanted that shit anyway. So I took it and called you, and you know the rest."

After saying that, Kenny fell silent, and Kyle thought he had nothing else to add to the picture. They covered some distance without talking, and then, as their car was passing Photo Dojo, Kenny turned his face away and leaned to the window. Kyle noticed, looked at the back of his head questioningly.

"You know, when I died in that alley, the visions stopped bothering me for a day or so." The change of subject was sudden, yet Kenny looked like he'd been thinking about it for a while. "I imagined they would be absent for the same amount of time… " He trailed off for a second. "But don't worry about it. I'm fine."

A thick lump began to form in Kyle's throat. He knew Kenny hadn't been delusional when they were making out, and he probably went through the bigger part of the hand job without falling prey to passion. Kenny could have avoided everything by simply leaving Kyle to his devices, but he hadn't: he'd taken responsibility for the man's impatience. The least thing Kyle could do in return was to make up for it.

But he feared to bite more than he could chew. Besides, in this unique illness Kenny had always been one step ahead of him, and Kyle's mind was safe and sound for the moment, which meant that if he touched Kenny, he'd do it on his own accord.

"I've been thinking about how I got to U-Stor-It," Kenny pulled him out of his thoughts. "Like I said, I've been waking up in my bed until today. Hypothetically, something that happened prior to my death could have caused another outcome..."

They hit a red light. Kyle forced himself to put his concerns aside and follow the conversation.

"Your mother got kidnapped," he said.

"Yeah. Well, maybe it isn't connected, but the timing is rather convenient, don't you think?"

Red switched to green, and Kyle turned the car towards their houses.

"Have you tried asking your mother about your ability?" he asked.

"It's not as easy as you think," Kenny answered.

"You think she has something to do with your revivals?"

"Maybe. If so, we might have gotten on ManPig's trail. I'll come back to where I woke up and search the place for clues."

They reached the Broflovski's house, and Kyle looked at the windows to see if the lights were off. His parents were still asleep.

"I can walk from here," Kenny said, but he drove past the garage.

"Not with your bare feet. I'll drop you off by your doorstep and then go back. You got anyone at home?"

"No, I sent dad to a detox center after my mother got kidnapped. Thanks for taking me home. Sorry for all the trouble."

"No problem."

 _There is a problem, though,_ Kyle thought when Kenny got out of the car and hurried to the front of his house, maneuvering among broken bottles and jumping from foot to foot in a futile attempt to escape cold dirt. Soon he disappeared behind the door, yet Kyle didn't rush to take the car back to the garage. He turned the key in the ignition, and the engine stopped working.

The situation was so complex he couldn't even point at what was making him feel most uncomfortable. He had accepted Kenny as a friend, recognized his views and opinions, admired his strength - but that didn't change the fact that they still were mostly strangers. Kyle could assure himself all he wanted, could explain his impulses and urges with the illusions, could hide behind the broad shield he'd crafted with the help of his fairy tale…

Only that shield would crumble to pieces as soon he accepted Kenny as his lover, while his head was clear. Kyle didn't have the luxury of abandoning the ship, too - he owed the man for the ruined patrol, and he owed him for his death. Kyle felt guilty, wanted to pay for his mistakes and redeem himself.

There was also that little nagging thought in his head that suggested he didn't really _want_ to leave. That he was actually okay with what was going on. Kyle blamed that one on the lack of sleep.

He waited another two minutes, then left the car, keeping both hands in his pockets as his feet carried him to Kenny's doorstep. Whatever the future was holding, Kyle hoped he would be able to keep his head high when he left this house.

He knocked.

"Kenny?"

There was no answer, but Kyle found the door unlocked, which wasn't surprising – he couldn't think of a person who would want to steal anything from such a poor place. He entered the living room, and the sound of rushing water flew in his ears on instant: Kenny was taking a shower. On one hand, that gave Kyle additional time to prepare himself for the upcoming meeting, but on the other, he was vulnerable to his own fears while he was alone.

Eventually the man took off his jacket and crashed on the couch, closing his eyes and listening to muffled splashes. They soothed his uneasiness for a minute or two, and then the water stopped, letting another sound into his ears.

"Spyy ooon me baby, use saaatellite, infrared to see me move through the niiight…"

His eyes shot open.

Kenny's natural voice wasn't unpleasant, and he could twist and alter it to fit Mysterion's personality better, but Kyle had never seen him as a singer - and such a good one at that. The thought had hardly flashed in his head when the bathroom door opened, and Kenny danced into the living room wearing nothing but a towel around his hips.

"I'm gonna like the way you fi-" He spotted Kyle and trailed off in the middle of the sentence, a puzzled expression settling on his face. He straightened up. "Hey. Thought you went home."

Kyle tried to look away, but his eyes declared a war on him and sewed themselves to Kenny's body instead. The man was wet, and little drops rolled down his fit muscles - the ones he'd gained through years and years of being South Park's hero. No scars decorated Kenny's skin all thanks to his ability, but Kyle could still picture them, deep and painful, shallow and light, bruises, cuts, stitches. So many untold stories he could have asked about.

"Didn't you see enough while I was getting dressed in your car?"

Kyle snapped out of his stupor momentarily, but that didn't do much about his missing voice - he just didn't know how to explain his presence in this living room even though he'd already figured it out in his head. Sharing it with Kenny was far more difficult than sharing it with himself, and some part of him hoped the man would kind of get it on his own. But Kenny wasn't getting it - or wasn't showing that he'd gotten, and the more time they spent staring at each other wordlessly, the fainter his smile became.

"My shift starts within an hour," he said. "Tell me what's eating at you so we can deal with it and send you home."

Kyle bit his cheek absently. "Work. Yes. Do you want me to give you a ride?"

He offered that, and Kenny chuckled - the sound died very quickly, though. The man shook his head. "Give me a ride. Kyle, I told you my visions are coming back. You're not helping me here."

Kyle knew that, but he wanted to make things right again. It didn't matter what stage of visions Kenny was going through, he would rob the man of it all. He only had to shorten the distance between them somehow, and his legs were glued to the floor.

"Um… Kenny, could you please bring me some water?"

Kenny frowned for a second, then nodded.

"Yeah. Hold on."

He went into the kitchen through the doorway that lacked its door, and Kyle took a deep breath, willing himself to relax. He heard the kitchenware rattling, then the sound of water being poured into a tall glass. Kenny came back with the drink – his legs were stiff as he approached, and his eyes were trained on Kyle's face.

He stopped within reach.

"Here."

"Thank you."

Kyle accepted the glass and took a small sip, then placed it on the nearby table. His mind was set, but his hand trembled as he raised it and pressed his palm to the inner side of Kenny's thigh. The man in front of him went completely still, unmoving, and only his throat clenched as he swallowed. He wasn't backing away.

"What are you doing?" he asked in a hoarse voice, and instead of answering Kyle dragged his hand higher until it disappeared under the towel. He could feel the muscles twitch under his touch, every inch of skin responding to it, and when his fingers brushed against Kenny's cock, the man inhaled sharply, forgetting about his question. Kyle answered anyway.

"Something I want to do."

He pulled the towel away so that it wouldn't hide anything from his eyes. As soon as Kyle did that, his inner self screamed in distress, but he ignored the call and watched as his hand worked up and down, bringing Kenny to hardness. The man's legs had been stiff before, yet now they were starting to shake, and he swayed forward, leaning onto the backrest of the couch with both hands and hovering over Kyle who had to slide down to maintain his comfort. That left him with an even closer view.

At first Kyle doubted such effect was caused by his awesome handjob skills and thought that hallucinations had to do with Kenny's eagerness more than anything, but then he noticed something different about the way he was behaving. Kenny wasn't moaning loudly like before, and his face was more concentrated than lost deep in lust - unlike the previous times, he retained his grip on reality. The expression he was wearing had to be honest. His own.

"Kenny," a whisper fell out of Kyle's mouth as he shuffled closer to the man's body and planted a soft kiss on his hip.

Kenny shuddered at the new contact, and one of his hands jumped to Kyle's shoulder and pulled the fabric of his t-shirt, hauling him up one second and pressing him back to the couch the next. He squeezed his eyes shut, and by some miracle Kyle read through it, saw that Kenny wasn't allowing himself out, wasn't letting go of his self-restraint in order to grant him control. The man's diligence was heartwarming, and Kyle appreciated the concern, but he hadn't come for that.

"Quit holding back," he muttered.

"I'm not, it's just-" Kenny breathed out, but his hand left Kyle's shoulder and took its previous place on the backrest, contradicting his words. Kyle scowled.

"Alright."

If Kenny wasn't going to do it, he would. Kyle took a firm hold of the man's hip and brought his mouth to the quivering abdomen. Kenny didn't miss the change of position but was unprepared for a tongue on his skin, and a shaky breath surged through his lips as Kyle dragged the slick muscle down. Kyle pushed them away from the backrest, sitting on the very edge of the old cushion – that left him pressed almost flat to Kenny's form, but it also didn't let Kenny clutch the couch for support. Kenny had no choice but to put his hands back on Kyle's shoulders, and that wasn't all.

Kisses and touches seemed to have a greater effect on him than the tight hand on his cock. Kyle caressed the man's stomach with his mouth, licked his navel, left small, wet trails – all of that affected Kenny in an amazingly powerful way, and his voice bled through his parted lips without ceasing. His fingers wormed into Kyle's tousled hair, and Kyle suddenly understood that the reaction he was getting was concealing something much bigger than just satisfaction. It was concealing something vital. Kenny wasn't used to pure human affection, was weak against it - Kyle could have put his mouth on the man's dick and it wouldn't have done better than kissing.

So he sprang to his feet and smashed his lips against Kenny's. A grunt of approval rose from the man's throat, and he finally gave up struggling; two hands darted to Kyle's belt and undid it. Kyle hadn't been expecting that kind of attention but didn't put up any protest – he wasn't blind to his own desire and wouldn't refuse Kenny's advances. Kenny, however, didn't go very far before his orgasm reached him: his fingers gripped the waistband of Kyle's jeans and froze there, his tongue going slack on top of Kyle's and eyes slipping shut.

 _Holy shit,_ Kyle thought as he felt the man pulsing, part of him wishing he'd gotten his t-shirt off. Then Kenny's fingers resumed their work, and he forgot about everything else. His jeans fell to the floor, and he stepped out of them.

"Come here…" Kenny mumbled, pulling them back to the couch. He dropped his weight on it, and Kyle ended up sitting on the man's lap with his legs spread apart and knees resting on either side of Kenny's thighs. He didn't mind it, though, especially when Kenny's hand guided his cock out of his boxers and started to pump it with precise strokes. Their mouths melted together again, and Kyle was so absorbed by proximity he absolutely missed it when Kenny's free hand slipped between the cushions.

Then he heard a bottle pop open, and his heart skipped a beat. Kyle pulled away, each fiber of his soul tensing.

"Uh, dude, wait-" he blurted nervously, observing as Kenny poured lube of all things onto his palm. "I-I don't think-"

"It's alright," Kenny assured him. "Trust me, I ain't gonna do anything you don't like."

He tossed the bottle away and pressed his hands together, spreading the liquid between his fingers. Then his left returned to Kyle's cock and squeezed it, muffling the man's complaints, while his right dived under, shifting the white fabric away and poking at his entrance. With a groan, Kyle grabbed Kenny's shoulders.

"Just my fingers," Kenny promised.

"…okay."

Kenny continued to stroke him, and now that his hand was wet and much more pleasant to touch, Kyle couldn't help giving in and thrusting his hips forward. Below, a gentle finger rubbed him and began to crawl inside - Kenny had probably meant to do it slowly, but Kyle accidentally sped up the movement by pulling back from the thrust. The finger slid in to the knuckle, and he hissed.

"-ah, you fucking…"

"Shhh..."

Kenny didn't give him much time to recover, simply went on. It was weird at first, to feel his finger moving inside, to feel it touching places it wasn't supposed to touch - but gradually its tender assault became better and better, and after a while Kyle couldn't care less about having a foreign object in his ass. He was too busy moaning and shaking in Kenny's arms, yelping as the man's lips closed around his nipple and sucked on it. United, the sensations were so overwhelming Kyle didn't even notice when he added another finger.

"K-aaah…"

He failed to focus on anything. Kenny's hands and mouth worked like a smooth mechanism built and tuned to fit his demands, and Kyle couldn't find a glimpse of peace in the whirlwind of touches they were creating; his hips were rocking back and forth, and he wasn't aware of it anymore. Kenny met him everywhere, never failing, and responded either with a press of his fingers or a jerk of his hand. At some point his tongue went up Kyle's neck, and that did it: Kyle leaned in helplessly, straddled Kenny's thighs and kissed him deep as the release washed over him. He convulsed, staining Kenny's skin, but they kept kissing till he was spent.

"Feeling better?" he asked later, and Kenny managed a nod.

"Yeah, but you better get off me now," he warned, withdrawing his fingers carefully. "Or I'm gonna lose it."

Kyle rolled off him immediately, and the next minute drowned in their ragged breaths. Both men sank into the cushions, and Kyle eyed his marred t-shirt, straightening it on his stomach. Kenny barked a short laugh.

"Sorry about that."

"No, it's my fault," he said. "I could've taken it off."

"Good thing you didn't."

"Yeah, I… what?"

Kenny was laughing openly now. "It's nothing, dude. So, are you still willing to give me a ride?"

He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, and Kyle punched him in the shoulder.

"Ouch- okay, okay. I got it."

Another minute went in utter silence. Then Kenny spoke again.

"Is it still too early for our first date yet?"

* * *

When Kyle emerged from Kenny's house, his wristwatch was showing a quarter past eight: Gerald would need the car to get to work, so it was too late to take it. Instead, he decided to walk Kenny to the mall and join his father later.

Kenny followed him out with a wide smile on his face and accompanied the car to the garage; his orange parka was hanging loosely on his shoulders, and he radiated warmth and smugness. He was smiling when Kyle asked him to wait outside and hurried up to his room to dress properly, smiled when the man reappeared in his suit (which made them look funny together), smiled when they took off towards the mall. Kyle was starting to suspect that something might have broken underneath his face, and now Kenny was unable to show other emotions… but his expression had a calming effect, and for the first time since forever Kyle felt like he'd done well.

"What are your jobs for today?" he asked as they were walking past the playground. Kenny raised his head to the clouded sky.

"Let's see…" he said thoughtfully. "It's Monday, so I'm a courier. And your favorite barista after five. Tweek is a saint if he still calls me his friend."

"I'm sure he understands. I mean, you're working as much as you can, and it wouldn't be possible to do so if your jobs didn't stack under the same roof. Which reminds me…" Kyle didn't know if he was in any position to ask this question, but he was too curious not to try. "Tell me if it's not my business, but what do you do with the money you earn?"

Kenny stared at him. Nothing had broken, after all.

"Why?" he asked.

"It's just that you're… how do I put it…" Kyle looked away for a moment. He had no idea how to explain his interest and not sound like an insolent jerk.

"Always wearing the same clothes, and my house looks like shit?" Kenny helped him.

"Kenny, that's not what I-"

"Nah, it's alright," the man cut him off, shrugging. "It's not a secret or anything. I've got a little sister who goes to college in Denver, and I'm paying for it."

"…you've got a little sister."

"Yeah."

Kyle pursed his lips. Two thoughts settled in his head: one told him that yes, they were strangers and that needed some patching, and the other made him take a new look at what he'd already learned about the man walking by his side. He'd noticed that Kenny had a habit of placing the needs of others before his own, and apparently that habit had evolved to such a degree it didn't manifest itself just in small deeds anymore. It surfaced in monstrous ones as well: Kenny took up Mysterion's role and enslaved himself to six works just to be able to pay for someone else's education. That was noble but so self-destructive.

"You don't really care about yourself, do you?" Kyle asked quietly. "Why?"

"I do care about myself," Kenny objected. "But Karen needs my help. I can always spend money on myself later..."

They crossed the street, and Kyle wanted to push the subject a little further, but a crowd of little girls with school bags up ahead distracted both of them. Their leader was once again in a circle.

"They're up to something, I'm telling you!" she announced. "Becky, come out and tell them!"

A girl with short brown hair stomped into the middle and raised her hands. "I know where they're hiding all their gaming stuff! I've seen the pig mask near the entrance, just like in that game you stole from your boyfriend, Jessie!"

The two men shared an alarmed look.

"They're hiding everything from us! I've seen Mike taking his Mass Effect figures somewhere too!" someone from the circle shouted.

"That's it! That's where their main base must be! We should check it as soon as Anne is back from her grandmother!"

Kyle stepped forward. "Excuse me?"

The entire crowd turned their heads towards him, and the leader girl cringed.

"We don't talk to the boys!" she stated. "Be on your way!"

Kyle didn't give up that easily. "Listen, I know there's a war going on, but this is very important," he said. "I promise I will not use this information against you!"

"I don't think it'll work," Kenny muttered beside him. The leader girl shared his opinion.

"I said, we don't talk to the boys!" she cried angrily, then addressed her friends. "Let's go, girls! Those filthy men are everywhere!"

The crowd marched off towards the elementary school, and Kyle was about to follow them when Kenny placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Dude, it's no use. A war is a war, they won't talk to the enemy."

"But this is so stupid!"

"I know. Let me make a quick call, see what I can do." The man took out his phone and fumbled with the digital lock. He lifted an eyebrow in surprise. "Wow, you weren't lying about those missing calls…"

Kyle wanted to defend his damaged pride somehow, but Kenny pressed the device to his ear and raised a finger in a mute request to wait. The man complied with an irritated huff.

"Hey, Stan!" Kenny greeted their mutual friend on the other end of the line. "Yeah, sorry I woke you up, but this is kind of urgent. Is Wendy free this evening? No, I... what? Oh… Okay, what about your mother? We need a female ally here."

With each passing second his expression was getting more and more frustrated. Whatever plan he'd come up with was turning out to be inapplicable.

"I see… Yeah, I'll handle it. Thanks. Bye." Kenny finished the call and sighed, turning back to Kyle. "No women on our side this time. Wendy is way too busy with her new social project for the city council, and the others aren't around."

"Maybe we should go to the police," Kyle suggested as they resumed their walk towards the mall. "Girls will talk to them, right?"

"I wouldn't count on that," Kenny said. "Besides, it might be nothing. I will tell Craig about this, but there's nothing else we can do."

"We can't wait for so long. This may mean nothing for the police, but you and I, we've both seen ManPig's mask. It's worth checking."

"You heard the girls, they won't talk to us."

Kyle froze for a second, and suddenly a pillar of divine light descended from above, enveloping him.

"They won't talk to us… But they will talk to the princess."


	8. Chapter 8

Ever since Kyle had arrived to South Park, he'd been explaining the majority of occurring events with said town's name. He'd been living here for a little over two weeks, and the amount of nonsense he'd gotten through was already overshadowing the entirety of twenty five years he'd spent in Miami. This small, deceptively peaceful mountain town had to be hiding some sort of ancient magic, an unnatural force that made its residents come up with all kinds of crazy ideas.

And now it seemed like Kyle's immune system was finally breaking under its influence as well. He was absolutely certain that he would have never suggested putting a grown man into a dress if he'd been thinking clearly – but just two hours ago, he'd literally asked Kenny to become a princess. Moreover, he was A-Okay with putting money into that plan.

The man leaned back into the chair, his fingers rotating the pen he was supposed to be filling documents with. The work was going slow today, mostly because he kept distracting himself with unrelated thoughts. The unrivaled leader was, of course, Kenny in a dress: Kyle had heard a few stories about the fairest maiden in all Zaron and was secretly eager to meet her in person - so secretly, in fact, that he wasn't yet fully aware of it himself.

He assumed that, like in Mysterion's case, Kenny had a separate set of traits customized for her, a set that included a voice change he was no longer able to pull due to his age. Then again, Kenny could do incredible things with his voice, so Kyle wouldn't be very surprised if the man suddenly started to speak with a pitch of a teenage girl. He would simply blame South Park all over again.

Another thing was the elementary school kids. Kyle feared that the mask the girls had discovered was the same one ManPig was wearing, but he had to make sure of that, otherwise the whole princess cosplay would be completely unnecessary. The lunch break was growing closer, and he decided to use that time to visit the school – hopefully, he would find someone enlightened and willing to talk. Then, if his expectations turned out to be true, he and Kenny would begin the preparations.

"Speak of the devil."

Kyle dropped the pen and took his vibrating phone from the table.

 _[dude i still cant believe were doing this]_

 _[its been yaers!]_

Kenny had to be having a really good feeling about this if he used an exclamation point. Kyle smiled, typing a reply.

 _[I need to talk to the boys first.]_

The next message popped up quick, bearing even more mistakes than usual.

 _[i knwo but ifeel like were onto something big here]_

 _[thats got to be it right]_

 _[by teh way sorry i cant go with u]_

 _[damn work]_

Kyle wasn't happy about going alone either, but he knew how important it was for Kenny to make as much money as he could, so he tried to be a good friend and comfort him.

 _[Don't worry about that. You should start practicing your princess voice while you have time.]_

 _[im on it]_

 _[its difficult bc myv oice is too low and if i try sounding like a girl i sound like a]_

There was a short break after that text, and then the man finished his thought:

 _[i dont think its possible to describe this dude]_

 _[its the worst voice in the history of]_

 _[voices]_

 _[but im doin my best]_

 _[Keep it up. I'll text you when I'm done talking to them.]_

 _[yeah okay ill be waiting]_

 _[babe]_

 _Some habits die hard,_ Kyle thought without much sadness as he put the phone back on the table and threw a glance at his wristwatch. It was almost lunch time - he had to finish the remaining tasks if he wanted to go anywhere without disturbing his working hours. Kyle took the pen and resumed writing, shooing away every thought that didn't match his current objective; princess Kenny was quite a persistent lady, but even she couldn't climb over the giant wall of dedication he constructed around himself.

Half an hour later he was done. The process had taken a bit more time than he'd been hoping to spend, but school lessons still had to be under way, and with a decent amount of luck Kyle would be able to catch the boys right outside the building. His attempt to speak with them would surely attract some attention from the girls' side and end up at their headquarters, but he supposed that wouldn't harm the princess's image, and anything else wasn't important. Kyle grabbed his coat from the rack, waved to his father and left.

When he arrived at the school, the front doors were open, and pupils were pouring out of the building divided into groups based on their gender. The war was quiet and didn't involve any fighting yet, but Kyle could see the unmistakable fire in the eyes of these children - he could tell that both sides were taking their battles very seriously. Some girls recognized him as they walked past (the coat and ushanka combo was a dead giveaway), but Kyle kept looking for promising sources of information without acknowledging them.

A familiar voice reached his ears.

"No, dude, we're not doing that. Believe it or not, Fred actually likes his girlfriend and wants to make up with her when this pointless war ends."

Fortune was smiling upon Kyle: three boys from yesterday evening were stomping down the stairs. They'd mentioned some kind of data back in the alley, so maybe that meant Kyle had a chance to get something out of them – if there was anything to get, that is. He put his hands into his pockets and approached the boys.

"Hi. Got a minute? I need to ask you something."

The boys stopped and looked up at him simultaneously.

"Hey, you're that stupid-hat-pervert from before!" the first one stated, hurting the green ushanka's feelings. The pervert part triggered Kyle even more, but he managed to maintain a neutral expression. "What are you doing here?"

Kyle hadn't really thought about how he would do the talking, but since he _was_ the girls' enemy, maybe there was no point in hiding what he'd learned this morning. He was a man after all; he and these three were on the same side.

"I heard the girls found out about your main base," he said casually. "The pig mask near the entrance sold it out."

All three boys shared a stare that instantly told Kyle they had no idea what he was talking about. Then the second boy looked at him again.

"We don't have an active base at the moment," he said. "We usually hang out at each other's houses, and that's the closest it gets to having one. The girls are mistaken."

"If they're up to barging into someone's house, though, I want to see it," the third boy cut in, taking out his phone and typing something with an impressive speed. "Just imagine how much fuss they're gonna make with it."

"Where is this place exactly?" the second boy asked.

Kyle shrugged. He'd gotten his answer; it was time to bail. "They didn't share the details. Anyway… if there's nothing to worry about, then I should get going-"

"Not so fast, mister-I-stick-my-nose-into-children-business," the third boy interrupted him without tearing his eyes away from the screen. "You told us they mentioned a pig mask? Like in "Hotline"?"

Kyle brought a hand to his chin, thinking back to the morning encounter. The girls _had_ referred to a video game, but he had far more pressing issues at hand to be searching it online.

"I don't know," he eventually said. "Maybe?"

"That doesn't make any sense." The second boy shook his head. "I mean, this mask goes with the collector's edition only, and that thing is super rare. Fred's the only one who was going to get one, and his girlfriend took it..."

"What are you saying?" the first boy asked, and while Kyle knew the truth, he was somewhat curious to hear this version.

"If the girls don't have the collector's edition and found a part of it somewhere, that means someone else stole it. Or there could be another box in the town, but like I said, it's super rare. So we either have a third party, or there's a thief among us."

"Holy shit…" the first boy breathed out. "We need to find out who took it!"

"W-wait, maybe it's not what you think it is!" Kyle yelped, raising both hands in alarm. The girls were preparing to launch an attack on ManPig's potential hideout, and the last thing he wanted to see was the boys joining them. "It can be just a random mask that has nothing to do with the game. Or what if it belongs to the maniac?"

"I highly doubt that, mister," the second boy said. "The maniac does wear a mask, but no sources stated it was a pig mask. Hey, Jack, you done with your dashboard?"

The boy with the phone nodded. "Yeah, I got blacklisted from Marvel's fan page. Again."

"Dude, just give up, those morons still think superheroes aren't real. Come on, let's be on our way." The second boy glanced up at Kyle again. "Thanks for the info, mister. If there's a traitor among our ranks, we'll find him. Bye."

Kyle could only watch with a heavy heart as they left, feeling like he'd done something unforgivable. The boy was right; the local newspaper didn't say much about ManPig's true appearance because no one but Kyle and Mysterion had actually seen him, and the description was ridiculous, to say the least. For everyone else ManPig was a psychopath in a mask that vaguely resembled… something, and now children - _children_ – were trying to get on his tail.

Kyle needed to tell Kenny about this.

 _[We've got a problem.]_

He began walking back to the office, his eyes trained on the messages and mind racing. Kyle was desperate to do something about it, to find a way to lift the pressure from his shoulders.

 _[yeah]_

His fingers moved faster than his thoughts.

 _[We were right about it being ManPig's mask. But I think I've accidentally sent the boys after him. It's a long story. Can I call you?]_

 _[yeah]_

As soon as the message appeared, Kyle hit the button and pressed the phone to his ear. Kenny picked up two beeps later.

 _"What do you mean you sent the boys after him?"_ he asked.

"There's this game called "Hotline"," Kyle began the explanation, his voice unsteady. "It's got a rare collector's edition with a pig mask in it. Remember when you uh… helped me out behind the grocery store? The boys who interrupted us were looking for it. According to them, there's only one such edition in all South Park, and the girls took it from them."

 _"Uh huh."_

"But now the girls claim that there's a pig mask hanging somewhere in the town, and the boys decided to look for its owner. They think he has the rest of the collector's edition as well."

 _"Wow. So, basically, we've got the entire elementary school going after ManPig?"_

"Yeah, something like that."

Kyle heard a sigh.

 _"Craig's gonna be sooo happy. Anyway, stick to our plan for now, okay? We'll figure this out."_

"Yeah, okay. Text me when you're done talking to him. I want to know what he says."

 _"Sure thing."_

The conversation had to end there so that Kenny would be able to contact the officer, but Kyle already felt a little lighter from just talking to him. He may have made an unintentional mistake back at the school territory, but there was time to fix it before the kids would find their destination. The boys at least; they were at war with the girls, and the girls didn't talk to their enemies. As for the girls themselves… Kids weren't stupid and could tell the difference between a princess and a man in a dress and make up, but they still believed in fables and superheroes, so Kyle hoped Kenny would talk them out of their upcoming raid.

* * *

In the evening, the mall was drowning in loud music, hustling crowds of people and faint but delicious smells that were descending from the food court located on the upper floor. Restaurants and fast food joints seemed to be attracting a great deal of visitors, so the escalators were completely packed up – fortunately, Kyle didn't need to use them this time and thus avoided the dreadful fate of having his bones crushed.

He eyed the display windows suspiciously, wondering where it would be better to start his brave shopping crusade - women's clothing stores had never looked this intimidating. Kenny was busy baristaing through the evening and thus couldn't be of service, so Kyle was left alone in this fearsome maze, with nothing but his wallet and the man's measurements at his disposal. Taking a deep breath, he decided to begin with the closest store – it looked promising enough.

"Hello!" an assistant girl greeted him as soon as he entered. Kyle gulped nervously, knowing full well what would come next. "Do you need help?"

"No, thank you," he answered politely and walked past her. Buying something in a women's store was already embarrassing, and Kyle wouldn't humiliate himself further by showing her Kenny's measurements. Besides, he was pretty sure he'd manage to do this on his own…

Except when he saw the amount of dresses, shirts, skirts, bags and other stuff hanging around, his confidence dropped to zero. Not only were the dresses scattered all across the store, none of them looked even remotely suitable for a magic princess. Kyle spent a minute or two looking around and then carried his mission to the next store.

 _[hows it going]_

 _[found anything yet]_

He examined the second store, found nothing, and answered bitterly on his way out:

 _[If you have time to spend on texting me, why don't you come down here and help?]_

 _[nah dude u know i cant do that]_

 _[besides imaginetwo guys bying a dress]_

 _[i dont know about u but i still have to work here]_

 _Fair enough,_ Kyle thought as he entered another store. He tucked the phone back into his pocket and continued his search.

Sadly, neither this shop, nor the four that followed possessed a princess dress he was looking for. Each of them offered at least half a hundred of different dresses, but Kyle found flaws everywhere: some were too colorful or too bright, some were overly decorated, and some wouldn't fit Kenny even if he starved for a week. And it wasn't just about the man's figure, there was also the matter of his bone structure. Fit as he was, even South Park's hero wouldn't look like a girl unless the dress was chosen right, and that made Kyle's task even harder.

After a number of irritating stares and giggles, a proper dress was finally discovered in the fifth shop – it didn't have a defined waistline and was long enough to hide Kenny's arms and legs, plus the color was acceptable. The only thing that bit Kyle was its price, but he recognized the gravity of efficient disguise and took it anyway. When the purchase was done, he let out a relieved breath and reported to Kenny.

 _[Found it. You got anything against lilac?]_

 _[no itll do thanks]_

 _[ill pay u back later]_

 _[You don't have to. Anyway, I'm heading to the beauty store next. No idea what I'm looking for.]_

Kenny didn't answer right away - had to be taking another order. He texted back five minutes later; by that time Kyle had already gotten to the store and was slowly losing his mind among mascaras, lipsticks, eyeshadows and some things he hadn't known existed. Everything looked identical save for the labels.

 _[take the basic stuff]_

 _[black mascara and fair eyeshadows]_

 _[fake eyelashes too]_

 _[Alright… I'll try. Anything else?]_

 _[dunno]_

 _[u can go home after if ur tired]_

 _[just unlock the window when you go to sleep so i can]_

 _[drop by after patrol and take everythin home]_

An image of Mysterion coming to fetch his dress flashed before Kyle's eyes and made him chuckle. No way was he missing that.

 _[Okay. See you later.]_

 _[go to sleep]_

 _[dont wait for me]_

Kyle ignored the last messages and focused on the store. He assumed that he'd wasted enough time on the dress, so he skipped the comparison part and simply grabbed the first items that matched Kenny's instructions. He took them to the register, paid for them and got the hell out of the mall. The sky was dark outside, and a bus was approaching the stop, promising to bring Kyle to sweet freedom-

 _[wait dude]_

 _[dont forget the wig]_

"Goddamn it."

Kyle groaned and turned back.

* * *

Despite being eager to meet the hero, Kyle couldn't switch off his tiredness. It chased him all the way home, revolved around him while he was eating and then crept upstairs to his room. When the bedside clock showed twelve, and the man walked out of the bathroom wearing his sleeping clothes, it immediately started to whisper dreams into his ears, telling him it would be great if he lay down and closed his eyes for a moment. But Kyle didn't listen to it, and even though he did go to bed, he took a book with him and pulled the pillow up so that it would be comfortable to read.

He left the window unlocked and waited.

Mysterion didn't take hours to show up: Kyle had roughly gotten past ten pages or so when he heard the window slide up. He raised his eyes and saw the hero looking back at him with what seemed to be a deep frown. It was difficult to tell with the mask.

"Hi," Kyle greeted him.

Mysterion climbed into the room and shut the window, leaving the cold air outside.

"Why aren't you sleeping?" he rasped. "It's late."

Kyle closed the book and put it away.

"I wanted to see you," he answered, getting off the bed and making his way to the wardrobe. "How was your patrol?"

"Nothing new," the hero said, watching him. "The streets are quiet. No sign of ManPig, and the children are behaving too. At least for now… I don't know what might happen when I go to bed."

He sounded frustrated, and Kyle knew the reason: Kenny's night duties were wearing him out. It was evident from his movements; there was hardly any energy left in him, yet he wanted to keep protecting his town. "You can't guard South Park all night and then work all day. You'll break."

He retrieved the bag with purchases from the lowest shelf and stood up, holding it out for Mysterion. The hero took it with a nod. "Thanks. And I _will_ pay you back later."

Kyle snorted, folding his hands over his chest. "If you thought your superhero voice would make me take your money, you were mistaken."

"You don't have to be awake when it happens."

"I will lock the window."

"That won't stop me."

Mysterion looked into the bag and hummed thoughtfully when his eyes stumbled upon the folded dress. He then closed the gap and turned back to the window, obviously intending to leave.

"Wait," Kyle said.

The man looked over his shoulder. "What?"

"Aren't you going to try it on?"

The question was met with dead silence. Mysterion stared at Kyle with a puzzled expression, then cleared his throat. "You want me to wear a dress. Here, in your room."

"Yeah," Kyle agreed. "We need to know if it fits you, because if it doesn't, we'll still have time to do something about that in the morning. Don't worry, I locked the door."

Mysterion remained where he was without moving.

"I know it can't wait, but…" he trailed off, watching the floor.

"Are you feeling shy or something? Come on, dude, I'm part of this. Let me see it on you."

A late thought told Kyle that maybe his request wounded Mysterion's pride on some level, but it wasn't like he could take his words back now. And it also wasn't that big of a deal; he hoped Kenny understood that.

"Kyle-"

"Just put on the goddamn dress, Kenny."

Another few seconds passed, and then the hero sighed heavily in defeat. He put the bag down on the floor and raised his hands to close the curtains.

"This is not how I planned to do this," he said, and Kyle could almost hear the pout in his gruffy voice. Mysterion turned back to the room and pulled the hood down, letting his blonde hair fall back into its messy state. His fingers took hold of the mask next, and Kyle suddenly felt something weird stirring inside him.

"Have you ever revealed your face to anyone?" he asked, rubbing the back of his neck. "I mean, I know that Stan knows, and Craig too… But, like, did you show it to them?"

Kenny removed the mask and dropped it on top of the table. "No," he said in his usual voice. "It didn't come to that."

"I see." Kyle climbed on the bed and sat there with his legs crossed, observing as the man undid the buttons of his torn cloak and took it off, sending it on the table as well. "It feels strange to see you like this."

Kenny grinned. "Like what? Undressing? Are you feeling shy or something?"

"Very funny."

When the man proceeded to take off his shirt, though, Kyle actually felt a little bothered. He'd seen Kenny naked before, even touched him in more ways than one, but somehow, this was different. The man rocked back and forth slightly, trying to determine the source of his uneasiness.

Then Kenny was pulling down his pants, and a bright memory awoke in Kyle's head.

 _It'll be dark. You'll be lying on your back, in your own bed, naked and with your legs spread wide apart. He'll be fucking you senseless._

"Dude, you okay? I was joking," Kenny called him, one hand keeping the bag open and the other pulling the dress out. Kyle blinked at him.

No, he told himself. If I end up spreading my legs for anyone, I'll be the one who decides when and where that happens, not a fucking whisper.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said aloud.

Kenny didn't question him further and straightened up, unfolding the dress by simply holding it in front of him. He clicked his tongue. "Oka-ay. Let's do this."

It took a while to put the cloth on. Kenny didn't have any boobs to wear the upper part of the dress like a girl would be able to, but otherwise it fit perfectly. Kyle pulled up the zipper on the back, and when the man stepped to the mirror, realized that he hadn't bought something rather important.

"I forgot to buy a bra," he muttered.

"It's alright, I'll take my mother's," Kenny said, looking at himself in the mirror. He put his hands on his hips and checked the reflection from all sides. "But the dress needs some patching. Don't get me wrong, Kyle, it's beautiful and all, but I look like an idiot who thought dressing up like his girlfriend would be a wonderful idea." He stood in silence for a couple of seconds and then added: "I was a stunning little princess, you know. Had an epic costume, the best in all Zaron, all thanks to Home Ec. I think I can make this one look better too… Just need some additional fabric and time."

"It's past midnight, Kenny," Kyle reminded him, leaning back on the pillow. "The shops are closed, and I don't really have much money left…"

"We don't need to buy anything," Kenny said, throwing a look at him. "I made the previous dress like this. Took a basic one and improved it."

"How?"

The answer was both expected and not. Kenny didn't say anything, but his eyes slipped away from Kyle's face and landed on the closed curtains. Kyle glared at him in disbelief.

"You want to improve your dress with my curtains?!"

"I didn't say anything yet," the man objected, but it was clear from his tone that he was thinking about it already. "The colors are matching, though…"

"Dude, no! Why don't you ruin yours!"

Kenny raised an eyebrow at him. "You've seen how I live, Kyle. There's simply nothing I can take from there. I told you, I'll pay you back later. If we can't use the curtains – fine, give me something you won't miss."

There was one teeny little problem with that: Kyle was that type of person who cherished his every possession. Besides, he'd moved in just recently, and there was nothing among his stuff that could be considered unnecessary. Kyle couldn't give Kenny his clothes or his blanket, and he couldn't give the man his towels (not that Kenny would have taken them). He also couldn't borrow anything from his parents.

However, neither he, nor Kenny had all the time in the world to be arguing about this – if they did, the children would get to ManPig's lair first. The dress had to be finished, and there was no opportunity to get the required fabric from anywhere else… No matter how Kyle looked at it, the curtains were his best shot.

"Fine, take them," he growled. "I hope that's enough."

"Should be," Kenny said, taking off the dress. "I don't have much active work tomorrow, so I should be able to sew it all together by lunch break. Then I'll go to the girls."

"And when are you planning to take a break?" Kyle asked. The man laughed.

"When I die."

"You can't die."

"Well, too bad for me then."

Kenny folded the dress neatly and placed it back into the bag. As he reached out to take his superhero clothes, Kyle got off the bed and directed his feet to the door.

"Where are you going?" Kenny asked him.

"I bet you had nothing for dinner today. Want me to bring you something?"

"Sure, why not. Thanks."

"Stay here, I'll be back soon."

Kyle left the room and went downstairs to the kitchen. He could see that Kenny's behavior was affecting his life in a destructive manner, and the fact that his mother had been kidnapped only worsened the man's state. Still, Kenny accepted everything Kyle suggested, and this once Kyle was beginning to worry that he was only pushing him to the edge. He'd come up with the princess idea, but it would be Kenny who did all the work. Kyle, on the other hand, would be peacefully sleeping in his warm bed…

When Kyle returned, Mysterion was sitting on the windowsill, and the curtains were missing. Kyle handed him a mug of steaming coffee and a plate with dinner leftovers he'd heated up in a microwave.

"Careful, it's hot," he said.

"You're a perfect wife material, did you know that?" Kenny murmured in his regular voice and then coughed, remembering he was already wearing a mask. "I mean, thank you, Kyle."

"Ha. Ha. Now eat it." As Mysterion started to munch pieces of baked fish, he continued. "Do you need any help with sewing? I don't have experience, but I can go with you."

The hero brushed him off. "No, you'll just end up distracting me, we both know that. Go to sleep."

"I guess you're right… But if something comes up, give me a call."

Kyle wished he could do more, wished he could participate in the realization of his own plan somehow, but Mysterion didn't look like he was seriously taking that option into account. Chances were, the man was planning to spend the entire night on creating the prettiest dress in South Park, alone.


	9. Chapter 9

_[I hope you're ready because we don't have much time.]_

 _[If we don't find them in the playground, we'll have to check the school.]_

 _[I'm in the mall. Where are you?]_

Kyle slowed his pace until it died in the middle of the giant hall, leaving him close to the escalators but still out of the dangerous zone where he would have been carried onto the stairs by the rapid flow of people. He was prepared to march into the grinder himself as soon as Kenny named the meeting point, but for some reason the man wasn't hurrying to answer. Kyle fidgeted; the lunch break was ticking, and according to their plan, the princess should have been standing in front of him right now…

Two new messages popped up, and he glued his eyes to his phone.

 _[second floor]_

 _[teh storage room ur so fond of]_

The destination wasn't very specific, but fortunately, there was only one storage room in this mall that Kyle had had the pleasure of visiting - the one where he'd first made out with Kenny. He assumed it was the place he was looking for and resumed his walk to the escalators, frowning as another text appeared on the screen.

 _[im not ready yet]_

He supposed the delay wasn't that surprising: they hadn't had enough time to begin with, and sewing a dress under such circumstances as skipping sleep and constantly worrying about the sake of children was a task too difficult to be done by a single person. Belatedly, Kyle started to suspect that he may have made a mistake by following Kenny's decision instead of forcing the man to accept his help. He shifted from one foot to the other, writing another message and silently pleading the stairs to go faster.

 _[How much time do you need?]_

 _[about fifteen mins or so]_

 _[its alright im just warning u so u dont scream when u see me]_

When the escalator delivered Kyle to the second floor, he immediately headed towards the vibrant mug-and-sugar-cubes banner of the coffee shop. As usual, the queues there were so extremely long they easily exceeded the shop perimeter, and he had to maneuver his way through the waiting customers in order to get to the restricted area further ahead. It included the corridor Kyle remembered entering, but due to some rather intense stuff he couldn't tell which room in particular Kenny had dragged him to.

Luckily, his search didn't last more than a minute: the fourth door he came across had a "Storage Room" sign on it and slipped open with a turn of the handle. Kyle stepped inside and instantly recognized the familiar shelves and boxes as well as two legs that were sticking out from behind a huge crate in the far corner of the room. Kenny was still wearing his jeans, and he was surrounded by randomly colored pieces of fabric, multiple bags, cosmetic products, scissors and a couple of rulers.

"Kyle?" he called.

"Yeah, it's me," Kyle answered, closing the door. He approached the crate, mentally preparing himself for a disaster yet at the same time hoping to witness at least the partial birth of the fairest maiden…

But the first thing he saw was the dress.

"Hi," Kenny greeted him. The word flew into one ear and escaped through the other.

The dress was safely attached to the top of an empty shelf and looked absolutely fabulous if not heavenly – Kyle had never thought his curtains would become such a fine addition to the upper part of the skirt and the narrow, long sleeves. Like Kenny had said, the colors matched perfectly, and if Kyle hadn't been the owner of those curtains less than a day ago, he would have thought they had always been part of this dress.

Kenny had also managed to find a great deal of petticoat material somewhere and sewed it all to the underside of the waistband – combined with two layers of curtains on the top, it made the skirt seem four times as big, and puffy like a soft, silky cloud. Kenny didn't stop there, however: he made a string of decorations out of artificial flowers and thin white nets and applied it all to the dress, creating an attire truly suitable for a princess, and not just any princess - the one and only. Kyle was so amazed by the man's work he could swear that any poet in the world would have spent days failing to describe its real beauty before receiving an unhealable creativity trauma and giving up.

"Is this the same dress I bought yesterday…?" he mumbled, raising a reluctant hand to touch it. Kenny let out a tired laugh.

"Yep. Took a while, but I like the result. You too, I assume."

"How is this even possible? Did you stop time? Do you secretly own a professional dressmaker team?"

"No, but I used some special royal magic," Kenny answered, his laugh fading. "Wait till I'm wearing it. You'll understand."

Kyle nodded to no one in particular, still overwhelmed by the pure miracle in front of him, and then finally tore his eyes away from the dress. He stared at his friend instead, and suddenly realized how exhausted Kenny actually was: the make-up he'd applied to his face made him look a bit more maidenly, but the dark spots under his eyes were marring the appearance, and a fresh cut on his left cheek was even less appealing. Kenny noticed the stare and shrugged once before picking up a false eyelash.

"I cut myself when I was shaving," he said, lowering it on his eyelid. "Don't worry about it."

"Jesus Christ, how are you still functioning?" Kyle questioned, sitting down beside him and putting a hand on his shoulder. "Are you sure you can pull this off? The dress may be great, but you look horrible…"

"Kyle." Kenny gave his hand a short squeeze before returning to the cosmetic products. "Trust me, it's gonna be okay. I know what I'm doing."

"But-"

"It's okay," the man pushed, fixing the second lash. He blinked twice and then threw a glance at a mirror that was glued to an open eyeshadow palette. "Let me show you something."

He took a small plastic bottle from the floor, and Kyle squinted his eyes in an attempt to read its name.

"What's that?" he asked. "A concealer?"

"Yeah. I don't have many bruises yet because I died recently, but being Mysterion goes hand in hand with those. I use this thing every day before going to work. Covers dark circles pretty well."

Kenny opened the bottle and poured some of its contents on his palm, and Kyle watched as the man's fingers rubbed the skin under his eyes, gradually putting the unhealthy color out of sight.

"Do I look better now?"

"Yes, but… I'm not sure you can do this. And what about the cut, don't you need to hide it too?"

Kenny stood up, shaking his head. "I don't have to. Come on, it's time to put on the dress. We don't want to be late."

Despite Kenny's attempts to reassure him, Kyle couldn't help worrying about the man's health. After all, Kenny was just a human, and even though he was immortal, that ability didn't save him from being drained by his own actions. A blind person would have sensed his weakened state, and for Kyle it was painfully obvious. However, he respected Kenny's request, so he kept his mouth shut and helped with removing the dress from the hanger. He held it while Kenny was taking off his clothes and then handed it over, pulling up the zipper when the man turned around and asked him to. In the dress, Kenny's figure was mostly invisible, and the only things that gave away his gender were his face, his Adam's apple and the outline of his muscles on his upper arms and shoulders.

"Alright, on to the easy parts," the man muttered, bending to reach into one of his bags. He took out a few cream colored bra cups - his mother's bra wasn't big enough and required some extra filling. Kenny stuffed them all in and adjusted the upper part of the dress to hide them. "Do they look even?"

"I think so," Kyle answered. "What next?"

Kenny picked up the eyeshadow palette and looked at his neck in the mirror. "Next I'm gonna need a scarf."

"A scarf?"

"Here, hold this."

Kyle took the palette, and Kenny walked up to the steel lockers on the other side of the room - as far as Kyle remembered, he kept a bag with spare clothes in one of them. The man sat down and opened his locker; he didn't bother retrieving the bag this time, simply stuck his hand in and grabbed his superhero cape.

Kyle gaped at him. "Dude, what are you doing."

Kenny closed the locker door and returned, unfolding the cloth and examining it.

"Yeah, I can't wear it like this," he stated after a moment, then took a pair of scissors and started to even out the torn edges. Some parts of the cape were damaged so bad Kenny had to remove them completely, and Kyle's heart shrank with each piece of cloth that fell to the floor.

"Kenny…"

"We'll think about that later."

At least the result turned out to be satisfying, and when Kenny wrapped the remaining part around his neck, not only did it hide his Adam's apple, it also made his shoulders look less muscular. The man pulled up its upper edge and covered his mouth along with the cut, and surprisingly, the addition didn't spoil the general image at all. Kyle raised the mirror so that Kenny would see himself in it.

"Good. Now the wig," he said in a slightly muffled voice.

The man sat down again (Kyle did the same so that Kenny would be able to see his reflection) and rummaged through the bag where he'd been keeping the bra cups. He took a wig cap out of it and put it on his head, tucking his hair under it.

"I really hope it won't itch too much," he said, fishing out the wig and combing it with his fingers.

Kyle shrugged. "It probably will."

"Thanks, you're a great support."

Kenny put the wig on, and Kyle was surprised to see that he actually resembled a royal figure now, though he wouldn't call this figure a princess - maybe a prince who tried to disguise himself as one. Kenny chuckled at his thoughtful expression. "I'm not done yet. Stand back."

Kyle rose to his feet. He took a few steps away, wondering what could make Kenny look more feminine, and his eyes widened when he learned the answer to his question. The next detail Kenny revealed from the bag was a crown - golden and shiny, complete with gems and carvings. It wasn't a real crown, of course, just a cheap sibling, but still looked fascinating. Kenny put it on his head, returned the scattered items to their bags and stood up.

"Are you ready?" he asked, kicking the bags under the closest shelf.

"Sure. Do your special magic, dude."

Kyle didn't think Kenny had been serious when he brought up the subject of magic, yet the man seemed to be up to something unusual as he straightened his back and pressed his hands together, laying them on top of the puffy skirt. Kenny closed his eyes and wasn't moving or talking anymore, just stood there like a statue and channeled some kind of inner energy as if he was in a psychic TV show. The man looked peaceful, uninterested in the outer world, and despite his weird behavior and the absurdity of the situation itself, Kyle found himself mesmerized by the sight. He waited and waited, feeling strangely excited, and then Kenny opened his eyes.

Within a split second, everything changed.

The alteration was so swift and affected the storage room in so many ways Kyle didn't know where to look first. The dim bulbs powered up and bloomed into little suns, the air filled with rainforest freshness though there weren't any windows around, and a pleasant melody melted in the air, caressing Kyle's ears with its smooth touches. In the middle of it all, surrounded by rosy petals and enveloped in glimmering silver light, stood someone indescribably beautiful. Kyle's heart stuttered.

"Hello," the princess greeted him, and he could hear a smile in her voice… his voice? Kyle shook his head, and Kenny laughed gently. "What is wrong, Kyle? Do you not recognize me?"

"I do, I just…" the man trailed off, licking his suddenly dry lips. "I guess I wasn't ready."

Kenny tilted his head and said nothing, then gestured at the door with a curt wave of his hand, suggesting they moved out. Kyle followed him obediently, trying not to pay much attention to the petals or the fact that he couldn't even determine where they were falling from.

"Do you have any other abilities I want to know about?" he asked when they exited the storage room. "You can't die, you do impossible things with your voice, you're a sewing god, and now you're…"

"A real princess?" Kenny seized his train of thought. "Let me keep at least some of my secrets, Kyle. We should focus on the little maidens."

They walked down the corridor, accompanied by divine music and bright light, and all that time Kyle could do nothing but stare at his companion in both awe and disbelief. His own increased interest embarrassed him to no end, and he held it back best he could, but a sly spark in Kenny's eyes told him that the man had noticed. Fortunately, when they reached the hall, the entire current of people was hit by the princess's magic as well, and that distracted Kenny from whatever he'd been intending to say.

Kyle had never seen the escalators so empty. Crowds fell apart before the princess, rushed out of the way and bowed, clearing a large path to the front doors below. Everyone kept their eyes on Kenny, and such a worshiping attitude made Kyle shudder.

"You do realize you could enslave people like this?" he asked as they stepped on the lifeless escalator.

"I cannot," Kenny objected. "They are stunned by my beauty, that is true, but it is simply their first reaction. Time will pass, and they will get used to my appearance and stop behaving like this. Furthermore, I do not wish to enslave anyone."

They left the mall, but the insanity quit with them; wind played with Kenny's skirt, attracting more and more eyes. Kyle scowled, irritated by the amount of ogling that was coming from all sides, and began to remove his coat – perhaps if he covered some of that dress, people would return to their business. However, a hand landed on his shoulder and made him stop. Kyle flinched at the contact.

"Let it be," Kenny said quietly, withdrawing his hand. "It would sadden me greatly if you got ill."

Kyle looked at his wristwatch, fighting against the heat that was rising to his cheeks. "Okay. We only have fifteen minutes. You'll be late…"

"It is not a problem. We shall take a carriage."

And by carriage, of course, he meant a bus. Kyle would have preferred not to use it, but Kenny's mind seemed to have been set, and besides, a bus was already waiting for them at the stop and showed no desire to leave without the princess. They got inside, and the majority of passengers sprang out of their seats, offering them to Kenny.

"Great…" Kyle growled.

The princess ended up taking a lonely seat in the front part of the bus, and he remained standing beside it, shielding his companion from the rest of the passengers. Sadly, that didn't work too well: Kenny giggled at his protectiveness, and it made everyone sigh in delight and come closer to see her instead of her guardian's back. By the time they got off, Kyle was raging inside.

"I wish you could take off the goddamn dress," he said when they were heading to the playground. Several girls were standing outside their headquarters, which was a lucky turn of events.

"A little impatient, are we not?" Kenny's amused voice reached him.

"I… what? Kenny! It's not time for that!"

"My apologies." The man winked at him before addressing the girls. "Good day to you, little maidens! I would like to speak with you!"

Contrary to what had been expected, the princess didn't have the same astounding effect on the girls as she had on other people.

"Halt!" One of the girls demanded. "We haven't seen you here before, name yourself!"

Kenny wasn't taken aback by the harsh reception and bowed. "I am Lady McCormick, the fairest maiden in all Zaron, and its one and only princess. I came to aid you in the war."

The girls didn't seem to be satisfied by his answer. They approached him, whispering among each other, and then looked up at Kyle simultaneously.

"If you came to offer your help, then why is there a filthy man standing right next to you?" the same girl questioned. Apparently, she was part of commanding force and spoke for the rest. "And how can we be sure that your dress is not a disguise? Petals are a nice trick, but you're way too huge to be a girl. And so muscular!"

Kyle shot a worried glance at Kenny, but the man continued to watch the children. After a few seconds he responded:

"This man is my servant; it is dangerous to travel without one these days. And I practice my fighting skills every day because I want to be capable of protecting myself should such a necessity arise. If you give me a chance, I will prove that I am a real princess - and a strong ally."

Those words made the girls share a puzzled look. Arguing whispers flew out of their mouths and collided, and when the air calmed, their leader nodded. "Fine, you have your chance. Prove that you are a princess, and we will talk to you."

"Thank you," Kenny said. Kyle had no idea how he was going to prove anything, but his doubts dulled when Kenny brought his hands behind his back with the grace of a princess and the quickness of a superhero - a small piece of steel flashed between his fingers and reflected the sun before disappearing. The man then flattened the fabric of his left sleeve and raised his arms, and it turned out that he hadn't shown the full potential of his magic yet.

Kyle felt the ground tremble under his feet. The stones below moved in a shuddering rhythm as a thousand of little legs hit the dirt in sync, running, hurrying towards the princess. Kenny's eyes, though determined, betrayed his uncertainty, and Kyle yelped as an army of tiny rodents bolted into the playground, past him and the girls, and circled the disguised man.

After a short moment of hesitation Kenny bent and took a white rat into his right hand - three more climbed up his skirt, but he brushed them off. Music intensified, took a faster pace, and he started to sing, his princess voice curling around a language Kyle recognized but couldn't translate.

「今火曜日です」the man sang, dancing among the rodents, 「プリンセス・ケニー殺す・・・」

"What the fuck?" Kyle blurted out in stupor, and he thought he heard the girls say the same. Some of them looked impressed by the display, yet their commander still kept her arms crossed, and a shadow of doubt flashed in her eyes. Kenny wasn't upset about her lack of trust and simply turned around, reaching out to the sky - a thick line of rainbow fell from above to meet it, and a loud clatter of hooves rose from the distance.

「かわいいね 女の子・・・」 Kenny went on, his voice wavering towards the end as a gorgeous white unicorn appeared in the view. The girls squealed in excitement, but Kyle noticed the dangerous position of the animal's horn on instant: it was directed at Kenny's chest, and Kenny was well aware of that. He didn't try to run, though, and jumped when the unicorn crossed the border of his personal space. The man gripped its mane and hopped on its back, scaring the shit out of Kyle in the process.

"This is amazing!" the main girl chirped as Kenny rode the unicorn around the playground, followed by rainbows, flowers and filthy rats.

After two circles Kenny came to a stop next to Kyle and lowered his head. "I need a healing item," he whispered urgently, and Kyle realized that the man's left thumb was bleeding. The cut wasn't serious, but it attracted the rats.

"I have a couple plasters here…" he mumbled, opening his brief case. Kenny thanked him upon getting what he'd asked for and turned the unicorn to the girls.

"I believe I have proven myself," he said. "Will you talk to me now?"

The girls answered in unison. "Yes!"

Kyle swore he wouldn't let Kenny play princess ever again.

* * *

The darker the streets of South Park became, the harsher its weather responded, and when Kyle got off the bus next to U-Stor-it territory and sneezed under the assault of cold wind, he found himself hoping that Kenny would bring something warm to put on top of his dress. After half an hour of private talks in which Kyle didn't participate, it became clear that the pig mask had been discovered hanging on a wooden pole next to a small farm house north of the town. The girls agreed to postpone their raid until the princess took a look around, but on one condition: she would record everything on a camera and return as soon as she had any form of evidence. That meant Kenny would have to keep his royal image till he reported back.

Kyle checked his phone and saw one new message.

 _[I am on my way.]_

Unlike Kenny and Mysterion, the princess didn't like to shorten her words. Some people would see this habit as a waste of space, but Kyle thought it suited her character.

 _[How's work?]_

 _[I must admit, coming back in this gown was quite entertaining. Actually, Kyle, I think I have earned more gold than I usually do just for drinking tea and ordering people around.]_

Another bus drove from around the corner, and judging by the colorful rainbows and glitter that spread after it, the princess was traveling among its passengers. Kyle put his phone away and approached the road, knowing full well that the other passengers would attempt to give her a hand - and he didn't want to see that at all. He raised his own when the doors opened, and Kenny took it, causing a wave of frustrated "aw"s behind him.

"Thank you," he murmured. "Here, I believe it will be better if you carry it."

Kyle took the camera Kenny had brought and raised an eyebrow. "I don't remember it being this pink and flowery before."

"It was neither pink, nor flowery," Kenny agreed, "but I was bored, so I decorated it."

As they were strolling down the sidewalk towards the area with several farm houses and broad fields, Kyle prayed to every deity he knew that the man would change back to normal when he took off his dress.

Less than five minutes later the pavement ended, and they stepped onto a dirt road – the farm houses showed up ahead, greeting them with bright windows, smoking chimneys and closed doors. Kyle spotted a couple of people tending to the cows, and that seemed to be it: the other farmers had already finished their work for today and retired to their homes. Still, he had to make sure the princess's magic wouldn't lure them out.

"There it is," Kenny told him, pointing at a lone shed in the distance. It looked older than the rest of the farm houses, and its windows weren't lit – moreover, the messy state of its walls and roof as well as its overgrown garden suggested that it was long since abandoned. The pole next to the entrance was vacant. "Let us move out."

Kyle grabbed the man's wrist. "Wait. You're not thinking about barging into someone's property until we confirm something, are you?"

"…I had no such intention," Kenny answered, though his voice lacked innocence. "I know the rules of this town, and I will abide by them. We shall only invade that estate if it is necessary."

"Alright, but what about this?" Kyle waved back at the special effects that accompanied them wherever they went. "You're gonna attract people. Can't you tune it down or something?"

"Of course."

Kenny closed his eyes, and the petals evaporated momentarily. The rainbows melted into colorless blots and followed them into oblivion, and the background music dropped to such a low level Kyle could barely hear it anymore. He sighed.

"If only our curse could be cancelled like this…"

"We should find ourselves a cover," Kenny said without acknowledging his wish. He gestured at a thick line of bushes that resided conveniently around the shed – not too close, but not too far away either – and they walked up to it slowly, cautious not to disturb the farmers. Kenny found a comfortable place from where they would be able to observe the building and sat down on a fallen log, inviting Kyle to join him.

"Will you let me into the estate if nothing happens within this hour?" he asked while Kyle was busy turning on the camera and setting the mode. "We need to prove the little maidens that they have no enemies here, and it would be best to do so while the day lasts. Then we can move on to our own mission and check the whole area."

"I guess we can do that," Kyle agreed reluctantly, sitting down beside the man and holding the camera in his hands. "I don't want to be caught trespassing, and I don't want to be shot either, but if no one shows up…"

"I will go first," Kenny promised. Kyle hit the rec button.

They sat quietly, shoulder to shoulder, filming the shed and waiting. The cows mooed rarely, breaking the silence, and sometimes their owners laughed or shouted something at each other – otherwise, the surroundings were nearly tranquil. The moon shone from above and threw shadows at everything it met, including the honorable scouts of Zaron, and it turned out that Kyle had overestimated himself.

Minutes crawled away with the speed and agility of a snail, and soon he started to yawn, unable to deal with the same uneventful scenery. Kenny, who should have been falling off his feet by now, was sitting with his back straight and his eyes focused. Kyle wasn't sure if it was the princess's magic or Mysterion's endurance forged by years of fighting local crimes, but he was grateful that at least one of them wasn't falling asleep.

"You should have gone home, Kyle," Kenny told him after a while, tearing his attention away from the shed. "I am used to this kind of tasks, but you are exhausted."

"No, I'm not," Kyle muttered stubbornly, catching the retreating farmers with the corner of his eye. He looked at his wristwatch. "Ten more minutes, and you can go in."

They fell silent again, and Kyle adjusted the camera angle before resuming the yawning session. Kenny tolerated his signs of tiredness for a few long minutes and then stood up.

"I am going in," he announced. "Stay here until I call you, but if I do not appear within five minutes, take your leave."

Kyle felt a lot livelier all of a sudden. "Got it. Be careful."

"I always am."

Kenny left their hiding spot and approached the building, taking a look inside through the dusty windows before coming up to the door. He didn't knock and just opened it, and Kyle filmed his every move, feeling a bit better now that he learned it wasn't locked. There was a good chance the shed was empty, and Kenny confirmed his assumption two minutes later, coming back out and beckoning him. Kyle jumped to his feet and rushed to the man's side.

"It is safe," Kenny assured him. "And there is something you might want to see."

He entered the shed again, with Kyle following his every step. The room they walked into was completely dark save for a silver spark that floated next to Kenny, and Kyle preferred to look though the camera lens to see everything at once.

"You know, I saw a play that begins exactly like that…" Kenny giggled, elbowing him.

"It doesn't begin "like that" if you're referring to Blair Witch," Kyle grunted.

"I guess we go to different theaters. Here it is, on the floor."

The man pointed down, and the silver spark descended, lighting the spot. And even though the camera caught the object perfectly, Kyle leaned away to see it with his own eyes.

It was a piece of red hair.

* * *

It took another hour to get back to the girls and show them the recorded material. Once again, Kenny had boosted his princess charm to the maximum and managed to convince them that their source had been mistaken and there was no need to attack anything. Kyle spent the whole talks watching them from afar because he wasn't trusted, and got his share of information only when Kenny was done with his part. The man walked up to him and handed over the camera along with a folded piece of paper.

"It appears that Sir Fred is having a party at his estate tonight. Lady Jessie was kind enough to provide me with his location, but unfortunately, I cannot leave at the moment. You will have to go there alone."

"What about the collector's edition?"

Kenny shook his head. "That is way too much to ask. The little maidens cherish this artifact and will not share it even with me. We can only hope that our evidence will be enough to sate the hunger of their enemy."

Kyle clicked his tongue. "Fine. And after?"

"I will send a crow to you once the ceremony is over, and then we will meet outside Sir Fred's estate and pay a visit to Feldspar."

That single sentence planted a pile of questions in Kyle's head, and they battled against each other for a moment before the winner climbed up to the tip of his tongue.

"Who's Feldspar?" he asked.

Kenny laced his fingers together, pressing both hands to his chest. "An old friend of mine," he said in a dreamy voice. "Now go, my faithful servant, for we do not have much time."

Kyle chose not to press the matter further because Kenny was clearly out of his mind thanks to his royal alter-ego, and besides, he assumed that he would be able to reveal the answers on his own if he thought hard enough. He let Kenny carry on with whatever ceremony he was about to perform and left the playground, unfolding the piece paper he'd been given. The address he found inside belonged to a house on the other side of the street, so the walk to "Sir Fred's estate" didn't take forever.

Kyle was expecting to be met with suspicion or with a "stupid hat" comment at least, but when he knocked on the door and it opened, the only thing he heard was:

"'sup."

He recognized the boy who was standing in front of him: it definitely wasn't Fred, but Kyle couldn't remember his name anyway, only that he was addicted to his phone and hashtags.

"Hi. I want to show you guys something," the man said casually. "It's about that collector's edition you're looking for."

"Oooh, some new info!" the boy grinned, and then looked over his shoulder. "Hey guys, it's that stupid green hat dude! He knows something about the game, so I'm gonna let him in!"

"Yah," someone answered, and he stepped aside.

Kyle entered the living room - a dozen pairs of eyes locked on him immediately, and the curiosity they all radiated was so immense he felt like a lamb that accidentally walked into a cavern full of starving hyenas.

"Nice camera, man," one of the boys whistled. "Girls gave it to you?"

"Yes, in fact," he answered calmly, straightening up and approaching the couch where the small predators were settled. "And I want to show you what it contains."

The boys made some space so that he would be able to sit, and when he did, they swarmed all over him, sticking to his shoulders and to each other, watching the small screen that was attached to the camera. Kyle hit the play button, and the house plunged into silence broken only by Kenny's voice.

 _"I am going in. Stay here until I call you, but if I do not appear within five minutes, take your leave."_

"What's with that shitty house?" someone asked.

"It's the place where the girls found your pig mask. According to them, it was hanging on a pole… there." Kyle pointed at the screen. "No mask on it, so we decided to go inside…"

He fast forwarded the tape to the point where he and Kenny were invading the property.

 _"You know, I saw a play that begins exactly like that…"_

 _"It doesn't begin "like that" if you're referring to Blair Witch."_

One of the boys laughed.

"Shut up," another muttered – Kyle recognized him as the wise but troublemaking kid form before, the one that came up with the search for ManPig's mask. "Mister, what's your name?"

"Kyle."

"Kyle. Who's that woman you're filming?"

Kyle glanced at the boy, puzzled by his sudden interest, and saw a thoughtful expression he didn't like one bit. It was the same one the boy had been wearing right before he suggested looking for the psychopath's hideout.

"It's uh… Lady McCormick," he answered carefully. "The princess of Zaron."

On instant, the room filled with whispers.

"A princess? Here?"

"What the hell, I thought we only had one hero?"

"Isn't that a dude? I mean, look at those arms…"

"No, it's a chick-"

"Quiet," the wise kid demanded, and the other boys listened to him, closing their mouths without objection. He looked up at Kyle. "I do not approve of your alliance with this princess, but I can see that you have great infiltration skills, and she trusts you. This is an advantage we can use, so we will be counting on you."

"She's not-" Kyle started, but the boy cut him off.

"It's evident to all of us that the girls are desperate, that's why they summoned a superhero of their own. Pathetic. This town already has a hero, and it's Mysterion."

Kyle wanted to protest, to say that the princess wasn't presenting any danger, but thought better. Kenny wasn't planning to wear the dress anymore – it was just a temporary image, after all - and that meant there would be no princess in the morning. Even if the boys considered her Mysterion's rival, that was okay, because it was a dead end. Kyle only needed to make sure they wouldn't look for the maniac anymore.

"I will continue to spy on her," he promised with a smile.


	10. Chapter 10

A thick layer of dark, massive clouds concealed the moon completely, killing the already poor light it was throwing on the lawns and sharp roofs of the slumbering mountain town. Despite that, neither Kyle, nor his royal companion had any difficulties with determining their way: Kenny still hadn't waved goodbye to his princess alter ego and thus caused all kinds of magical light sources to follow them around and brighten their path. The swirling twinkles were by no means repellent, but Kyle had already seen enough of that and wanted to take a break – from them, and from the maiden's music, too.

All in all, the princess's charms were quite similar to the illusions of the fairy tale that haunted him from time to time, and that made Kyle question the nature of both occurrences – a topic he would discuss with Kenny once the dressing episode was behind them.

"So, let me get this straight." He put his hands in the pockets of his coat, shielding them from the rapidly dropping temperature and freezing bites of its omnipresent howling companion. "You gathered all ten year old girls you could find in our neighborhood and then converted them into knights, is that right?"

Kenny nodded, playing with a long strand of his fake blonde hair. "Indeed. It has been a while since I last had knights in my kingdom."

"Every single girl is your knight now."

"Oh, no-no, it is not like that." A stray sparkle landed on the man's fingers, and he tossed it back into the air with a slight movement of his hand. "No child is meant to serve, Kyle. The little maidens wanted to become stronger, wanted to have a noble title… so I put faith in their hearts."

"What kind of faith?" Kyle asked, suspicious.

"One they will follow with dignity and unbreakable will," was the vague answer he received. He opted not to push further: judging by Kenny's smile, the man wouldn't give a proper explanation until the Zaron game was over.

Which, Kyle supposed, would come to its end after they had a talk with Feldspar – the person whose identity was still a mystery to him. He had one guess, though: if he turned a blind eye to the whole fable setting, the first person Kenny would want to go to with an important piece of evidence was his friend in the force, Craig Tucker. Kyle harbored the guess as they walked down the peacefully serene street.

Eventually, Kenny led him to a simply designed, but cozy looking two-storey house that locked a row of buildings stretching alongside the empty road. Its windows were black, which most likely meant that the owner was asleep – and it wouldn't be a surprise, considering the late hour. Still, such technicalities didn't seem to bother Kenny as he rang the bell without any hesitation; the Japanese song was still lingering on his lips, and he seemed content, albeit evidently tired.

Half a minute later the lights on the second floor flickered on and slowly leaked down to the first, where, Kyle assumed, the living room was situated. He heard quick footsteps and a dull clicking sound that was awfully close to a gun being reloaded, and then the front door opened, revealing Craig in a blue bathrobe, two guinea-pig slippers and a spoiled mood. The man eyed his visitors, scowling, and then saw Kenny's dress. With a deep sigh, he pressed a palm to his forehead.

"Kenny, I swear to god…"

"Feldspar!" Kenny exclaimed merrily in response, shooting both arms up as if he was offering the man a hug – one of those hugs that were a must for friends who were meeting after long years of separation. Every sparkle and petal he had in control flew towards the officer, but all of them met some kind of invisible wall and recoiled. Craig groaned.

"Stop it. I've been immune to that skill since level eighteen."

Tweek appeared from behind the man, attracted by the guests and the noise they were making. Though it was evident from his disheveled hair and the messed order of the buttons on his pajamas that he'd been asleep just a few minutes ago, his face lit up. "Princess Kenny! Hey, Kyle!"

"Hey."

"Greetings to you, Barbarian Tweek!" Kenny bowed to the other man gracefully, and if Craig was immune to the princess's magic, Tweek clearly wasn't.

"I'll make you all coffee," he beamed before retreating to the kitchen, covered by rose petals and sparkles from head to toe. He tried to shake them off, but his attempts were half-hearted, and magic clung right back to him.

Craig stepped back into the living room so that the two men would come in, and Kyle handed him the flowery camera. Thankfully, the officer didn't feel the need to ask any questions about the acquired item and didn't comment on it - just gestured towards the couch and walked up to it himself, rewinding the tape to its beginning. The three of them settled down, and he hit play.

" _You should have gone home, Kyle,"_ Kenny's maiden voice rose from the speaker.

"Farm houses?" Craig muttered with a tilt of his head, instantly recognizing the place. Despite putting his guess into the form of a question, the man didn't look like he required an actual explanation. His expression remained somewhat skeptical as the tape went on, and Kyle couldn't pinpoint if it was due to the location they'd filmed or Kenny's supposedly inappropriate disguise. He didn't ask and suspected it wouldn't bear fruit anyway: Craig didn't look like he cared about anything that was going on outside the recorded material. In fact, the only thing he said was a quiet "thank you" addressed to Tweek when the man brought him a mug of coffee – the words left his mouth so casually that Kyle immediately realized it was a thing that occurred between them so often it didn't break Craig's focus anymore.

"Are you two hungry?" Tweek asked his guests upon returning with a steaming mug for Kyle and a pretty white cup for Kenny. While the first refused politely, the latter, hungry and exhausted as he was, couldn't say no to a couple of sandwiches. Tweek departed back to the kitchen.

" _I guess we go to different theaters. Here it is, on the floor."_

Craig looked closely as the camera centered on the piece of hair. "That's evidence alright," he said, observing the find. "You left it there?"

Kenny lowered the edge of his scarf and took a sip of coffee. "Certainly," he murmured. "We did not find anything else of interest in the estate, but I believe this should be enough to attract the curiosity of the den."

"May be." Craig turned off the camera and gave it back to Kyle. "I'll try to get a warrant in the morning. That aside, what were both of you thinking, invading someone's property like that?" He pointed at the fabulous dress.

For a second, Kenny's eyes darted to Kyle's face.

"We needed to prove the elementary school girls that the farms are empty. That's where they saw the mask," Kyle answered. "They've got a war going on with the boys, so Kenny dressed up to gain their trust."

"Why didn't you just talk to their parents? Or teachers?" the officer asked. "You could have avoided the whole circus. And why did _you_ tag along in the first place?"

Realization struck Kyle like a hammer in the face. For all his life, he'd been thinking of himself as a rational, serious, and grown up person. For all his life – till this very day. His dwelling in South Park must have reduced his brain to one of a fourth grader.

Kenny stepped in to defend them. "Feldspar, you have to remember us when we were younger. We were unstoppable, and these days, younglings are no less persistent. As for taking Kyle on the mission… Perhaps we were both confident in my charms, and when the little maidens asked me to bring proof of the estate's harmless origin, I did not refuse his company."

"People literally bowed everywhere we went," Kyle added. "At that rate, even ManPig would have done the same."

"You don't know that," Craig disagreed, folding his arms across his chest. His voice was calm, and yet the look he flashed in Kyle's direction was so piercing it was impossible to object. "Besides, the tape shows that Kenny entered the shed without you. Didn't it occur to you that ManPig could have attacked you while you were alone?"

"I…" Kyle swallowed the words he was about to say. Up to this moment, he hadn't seen any distinct flaws in the plan he and Kenny had carried out during their little invasion: they made sure to find an efficient hiding spot, and the princess's magic, though minimized, was never turned off completely and covered both the shack and its surroundings. Even if ManPig had jumped out of the nearest bushes and attempted to strike them down, he would have been hit before dealing actual damage.

Right now, however, Kyle started to question his conclusion. Craig, for once, wasn't affected by Kenny's royal image, and maybe ManPig had a means of defense against it as well.

"You have to realize that without Kenny you're next to defenseless. And he can't babysit you forever. You need to be more careful." Craig was merciless in his judgment. He sank into the couch and pressed a hand to his mouth, hiding a yawn. "Anyway, what's done is done. Leave the rest to me and go get some sleep. Especially you." He threw a meaningful glance at Kenny. "You should take a day off."

The man let out a bitter laugh.

"Feldspar, there are things in this world even a princess cannot do."

* * *

 _[I'm visiting a friend. Don't worry about me.]_

Kyle hit send and tucked the phone back into his pocket, positive now that his parents wouldn't worry if he didn't show up at home within next five minutes.

Kenny was walking by his side, uncharacteristically quiet and with his shoulders hanging so low Kyle thought they would tear off any second now. There'd been no emotions on his friend's face ever since the talk with Feldspar had ended, and the princess image was vividly cracking under the pressure of exhaustion. Lighting sparks were almost gone, and the only music Kyle could hear was a mix of rustling leaves above and the footsteps he and Kenny were producing.

Thankfully, the distance between the officer's house and Kenny's own wasn't very large, and soon the railroad showed up ahead, greeting the two men with empty bottles and huge piles of litter. Kyle spotted a white rat running down the track but didn't find any strength or desire within him to comment on that. Kenny didn't say anything either, and they reached the McCormicks' house in absolute silence.

The door squeaked softly, opening under the push of Kenny's hand – once again, he hadn't seen the necessity to lock it. Blackness equal to the dark night outside met them, but the man didn't bother turning on the lights - he didn't even raise the hem of his dress as he moved his feet over the doorstep, and Kyle figured he was barely holding up at this point.

"Are you sure you can't take that day off?" he asked, closing the door behind him.

"Yeah," Kenny answered, and the voice that flew into Kyle's ears was finally matching his normal self. "Wish I could… I feel like I'm gonna drop right here and never get up."

Having said that, the man proceeded towards his room without bothering to take off his sneakers. A couple of rats blocked his way when he was approaching the door, asking their master for food, but he simply stepped over them, hardly lifting his feet high enough not to kick them. Despite feeling disturbed by the sight of skinny rodents running about the house, Kyle didn't hesitate too much before following Kenny to his room. Seeing him approach, the rats whisked in two opposite directions.

"You should've gone home," Kenny mumbled when the man entered. He'd ignored the light switch again and was now sitting on the edge of his bed with his elbows pressed to his knees. His expression was impossible to make out.

"I wanted to make sure you get here safely," Kyle said, looking around and trying to adjust his eyes to the darkness. Judging by the outline of the furniture by the window, Kenny's belongings appeared to be at least partially destroyed, and Kyle could see some posters hanging on the walls… but it was too dark to determine what was drawn on them, and he didn't want to turn on the lights because Kenny could have done it himself but hadn't.

"Well I'm here… now," Kenny trailed off in favor of yawning. "Just need to get out of this dress… and put on something casual. Then I'll walk you home."

Kyle didn't like the idea of being escorted, especially when his friend's consciousness was nearly kicking the bucket, but Kenny was way too stubborn to let him wander off alone. Craig's displeasure with his earlier decision may have fueled this stubbornness further.

"Uh huh," Kyle promised, inwardly building plans to make Kenny stay at his house for the night. There was a fair chance that the man wouldn't make it back to his own bed, and Kyle didn't want to see him fall to the pavement somewhere. "Now stand up and turn around."

"…rrri-ight..." The answer was slower than the previous one, and much quieter. Kenny wasn't hurrying to comply- actually, he didn't move at all, and a quarter of a minute later Kyle walked up to him, thinking his help was looked for. Turned out, Kenny just fell asleep sitting.

"Alright," Kyle whispered with an amused, little smile, guiding his friend on the bed - it looked like Kenny wouldn't be escorting anyone tonight. The movement earned him a satisfied groan, and Kenny began to drag his lower part on the mattress, forgetting all about the dress he was wearing. Kyle caught his feet and took off the foot wear; there was no way he was removing the dress now, but this he could handle. The wig slid off Kenny's head too, and he picked it up and put it on the bedside table before covering the man's body with a thin, torn blanket.

Though poorly, Kenny was settled for the night. Kyle watched his unmoving form for a while, and no persistent thoughts of leaving crossed his mind even though he still had his boots and coat on, not to mention the ushanka. Perhaps it was his tiredness, or maybe the overwhelming feeling of trust he'd developed in the course of two past weeks – either way, right now the perspective of going home was gradually greying out, suppressed by the sound of Kenny's steady breathing. Kyle didn't know what was so special about it, but he couldn't fight the urge to stay where he was.

"Good night," he breathed out, thinking that maybe some kind of a closure would help him get into motion. Kenny didn't answer, of course, but he rolled on his side, and Kyle's eyes, already familiar with the blackness, caught the movement of the man's shoulder as he brought a hand closer to his chest.

The battle was lost. "Alright. Fuck it."

He kicked off his boots and left his coat along with the hat beside the princess's dress. Kyle's parents had been warned, and his intent to go home wasn't that strong anyway, so he lay down next to his friend and pulled the blanket over himself. The warmth that spread between them felt like honey, and an arm wrapped around Kyle's middle on instant, drawing him closer to the man's chest. Kenny's nose rubbed against the back of his neck, and Kyle let out a sigh, clutching the hand that was holding him. He closed his eyes, knowing he'd made the right decision.

* * *

The main source of warmth disappeared closer to the morning - leisurely, lazily, it untangled its limbs from Kyle's and drifted away, accompanied by chirpy bird songs and distant roars of car engines. Kyle felt the mattress shift, but his head was still too heavy after the quests of the previous day, and so he stayed within the harmony of his dream, caught by thousands of emerald leaves and a net of piercing yellow sunrays. The man rolled on his back, brought a hand to his stomach and carried on with the fantasy venture he was having in the woods.

His dream, however, was short on endurance without a constant supply of heat. The temperature started to fall, and even though Kyle pulled the blanket over his trembling shoulders at some point, the comfort he attempted to nurture slipped through the holes in the fabric. The forest began to glitch: trees fell apart like they were made of dry sand, colors twisted and swam in front of his eyes, and every object he touched vanished. Then, finally, the scenery couldn't hold together much longer and split in two, followed by a loud whistle of tensing bows and a thunder of breaking branches. Kyle snapped awake and stared at the purplish-lilac blend of the princess's dress that was still residing on the bedside table.

"What…?"

He blinked a few times, connecting to reality, and suddenly remembered that not only wasn't he an elven king, he also didn't have an army of pointy-eared archers behind his back. He was just a guy who'd crashed at his friend's place last night, too tired to stand on his feet.

Kyle turned his head and saw that Kenny wasn't lying next to him anymore, though the rattling sounds coming from the kitchen suggested the man was still around. He threw a sleepy glance at his wristwatch – it showed seven in the morning; Kenny had to be getting ready for work. His hours started earlier than Kyle's, after all.

As the man was rising from the bed, goosebumps ran down his skin, reminding him how cold it was in the room. That was why he'd woken up in the first place, and if Kenny spent every night in such conditions, it was a miracle he hadn't turned into an ice statue yet. Witnessing the horrible state of the blanket, Kyle made a mental note to buy the man a new one – and a pillow. He got off the bed and found his boots where he'd left them.

As he was heading towards the door, he noticed that the only window in the room was broken and had duct tape glued all over it – Kenny must have done that quick fix to prevent the growth of icicles on the ceiling. The walls had numerous shatters in them, adding to the general coldness, and a few wooden planks were nailed to the floor... Kyle had been right about the half-destroyed furniture, too. As for the posters, he could see women on them - naked and not so much. All of them were faint, bleak, and must have been hanging there for ages.

 _Kenny doesn't deserve this,_ he thought.

When Kyle finished his sorry inspection and made it out to the kitchen, he found his friend squatting in front of the fridge: Kenny was searching for something edible and apparently couldn't find it. On the bright note, he was wearing his orange parka and jeans today, and Kyle was glad to see his old self again. The princess was a beautiful maiden and an interesting companion to travel with, but he'd been missing the original person more than he'd thought.

"Morning," Kyle greeted him, and the man looked over his shoulder, beaming.

"Hi. We're out of… everything. How'd you sleep?"

"It was fine… at first," Kyle admitted. "Man, how do you sleep in there alone? Your room is a goddamn freezer…"

The grin fell off Kenny's face momentarily. He shut the fridge with his foot and approached, frowning. "Damn, I should've woken you up. It's just… I'm used to it, you know? Sorry."

"It's fine," Kyle assured him. "Can I use the bathroom?"

"'course. You know where it is." Kenny shifted from one foot to another, licking his lower lip nervously. "I'll make you some tea. Don't have much sugar, but…"

"I'm okay with that. Thanks."

"Alright."

Kyle let him return to the fridge and made his way to the bathroom. Like the rest of the house, it was quite in a bad shape, but the shower worked, and Kenny had a piece of soap, some shampoo and even a bit of toothpaste. Just one towel, not entirely dry… With a thoughtful hum, Kyle realized that he didn't mind that much. He could always go home and take a shower there, sure, but maybe the night he'd spent snuggling with his friend somehow made this bathroom more attractive. He shrugged and peeled his clothes off.

By the time Kyle emerged, the kitchen was empty, but his tea was waiting on the table just like Kenny had promised. He took a few gulps and placed it back, noticing that the bedroom door was open again: the man must have returned there while Kyle was showering.

"You here?" he asked, entering, and Kenny looked up from the bed where he was sitting with his princess dress lying on his left and Mysterion's outfit on his right. In his hands was the cape-scarf cloth he seemed to be trying to fix. "How bad is it?"

"Well, it's not a cape anymore," Kenny answered, shrugging. His cheerfulness had gone on a vacation. "Gonna need a new one… But hey, the cosplay was worth it, right?"

He said that, but his eyes told Kyle a different story. They told a story of extra working hours that had to be acquired as soon as possible because Kenny couldn't stop being South Park's superhero, and the cape was an essential part of Mysterion's outfit. They also said that he hadn't gotten enough sleep, only a pathetic fracture of it that wouldn't be enough to keep him awake through the rest of the day. On some level, Kyle could relate, but that knowledge didn't make him feel any better.

He didn't provide Kenny with a verbal answer, but he came up to the bed and leaned down into the man's personal space, planting a gentle kiss on his lips. It must have been unexpected because Kenny lagged instead of answering, and when Kyle pulled back, the corners of his mouth crooked in a puzzled smile.

"It's been two days," he said, fumbling with the scarf. "They just can't leave you alone, can they?"

Kyle didn't get what he was talking about at first. Then it dawned upon him in a lucid bolt of anxiety seasoned with embarrassment, and he stepped back on instinct, hands limp at his sides. "You mean illusions?"

"Yeah."

"…I'm not having any."

Kyle would have laughed at the swift change of his friend's expression if the situation hadn't been this shitty. Kenny had never been shy when it came to showing his flirtatious side, and the last thing Kyle expected to bump into now was an utter lack of it. They'd been through so many moments together, so much stuff that still made his heart pound and his cheeks flush crimson; Kenny had never hesitated, not even once, and Kyle couldn't grasp what was going wrong now.

Kenny cleared his throat, gripping the cloth so tight Kyle wondered how it hadn't ripped in half yet. "You're not?" he asked.

"No. I'm not."

He let the cloth be.

"Why?"

The question was so out of place it stuck between Kyle's brain gears and caused a temporary blackout. He lowered an eyebrow. "What kind of question is that?"

"It's not- wait." Kenny let out a breath, shaky, and attempted to gather himself. "I didn't think you'd do something like this. Not without encouragement."

"…why wouldn't I?"

The man pursed his lips, staring right into Kyle's eyes. "Because I remember what you said about being in a relationship with people you hardly know. I know why you did what you did after I died, and I think that's what makes you a friend I may not even deserve… but just now, you didn't look like you were having any visions, and you had no reason to act out of sympathy."

"It wasn't sympathy."

Kyle couldn't recall seeing Kenny this serious before. He couldn't recall seeing him this vulnerable, either. The man stepped closer and bent, pressing his hands to Kenny's knees and kissing him once more; Kenny didn't flinch away from the touch, but his lips stayed almost unmoving, only parting slightly as if he wanted to say something but couldn't.

Kyle leaned back after a while. Chuckled.

"Page not found?"

"Maybe I should reboot myself," Kenny noted absently, his voice void of emotion.

"I prefer you this way, thanks."

"Um. This is probably that part of the story where I'm meant to share my heartbreaking backstory with you."

"And?"

"And I really don't want to ruin our humor genre with that shit."

Kyle laughed. "Dude. What the hell are you talking about."

"I've got no idea. Can you maybe do it again, please?"

He complied without delay. This time, Kenny didn't waste his concentration on distracting thoughts and let his tongue out, prying Kyle's lips open and pushing it inside. His hands snaked around the man's middle as they kissed, pulled him in - Kyle sat on his lap eagerly, flat against his chest. When their breaths mingled, he realized how fast his friend's heart was beating.

"Holy shit, dude," Kyle muttered, palming the pulse. "You're really not used to this, are you."

"Freaks you out?"

"A little. Turns me on more. Come on."

"W-wai-"

He charged forward, and Kenny fell back on the bed, grabbing its edge for what had to be moral support. Amusingly enough, he accidentally clutched his superhero mask along with it, but didn't seem to notice anything in the middle of a torrent Kyle launched by hovering over him and reattaching their mouths together. Kyle unzipped the man's parka, and his hands slipped under the hem of his t-shirt; he was feeding on each hitching response, feeling smooth, twitching skin with the tips of his fingers.

"It feels so weird…" Kenny mumbled when they broke apart for air.

"No one ever pinned you down?" Kyle guessed.

"No."

Kenny's chest moved restlessly as he answered, and though there was a red tint to his cheeks, he didn't look away from Kyle's face. Kyle watched him right back, watched the certainty, the overthrown urge to have the upper hand, and the rusty - yet still working - wish to trust. He bit his lip and shifted his weight down, sitting on Kenny's thighs and making him shudder.

"Dude-"

"You like it," Kyle stated, giving the man's crotch a rough grind. It caught Kenny off guard, and he hissed, gripping Kyle's leg and holding their bodies together with such force Kyle thought he was scared of suddenly waking up. Kenny didn't utter anything else, didn't beg or order him to move - just followed the pace Kyle set, and refused to close his eyes or look at something else. As far as Kyle could tell, Kenny was burning this scene into his memory – or trying to, because with every thrust they were making, a bit of concentration drained out of his face.

Kenny was giving him what he wanted, and at this rate, would have probably given everything if such a demand had been raised. Kyle didn't want to be that type of person who only knew how to take, though: he wanted to share, to offer the same things Kenny offered him.

It took every bit of his self-restraint to stop.

Beneath him, Kenny's hips surged up, waiting to be met but achieving nothing. The man's throat tightened, and he looked up in a wordless question.

"Remember when we were talking about having a ride?" Kyle asked his own, and he could swear Kenny was lost at that very moment. "That's what I want to do. You up for it?"

Kenny averted his eyes at last, glancing at the old wardrobe that was standing in the far corner of the room – a miserable piece of furniture with only one door intact. He opened his mouth to answer but closed it before his voice would get out, voting against whatever he'd initially decided. When he finally did answer, his voice sounded sad but confident.

"It's been two weeks, Kyle. Don't do things you might regret later."

If Kenny's reluctance to meet Kyle's eyes after what he said was any indicator, then he was expecting to be left here – discarded, unwanted, and yet ready to act like nothing had happened when he emerged in the living room minutes later. The sound of his zipper going down proved him wrong.

"Kyle-?" His head jerked back just in time to see a hand sneak in, and he gasped even before Kyle got to his cock.

"I heard what you said," Kyle assured him, pulling it out and giving it a few firm pumps. "And I'm pretty sure I'd regret _not_ doing this."

He withdrew his hand to unbuckle his own belt; Kenny wasn't the only one in this room who was getting hard, and Kyle's jeans had been on for too long. The air around him was freezing, and he wasn't sure he'd be warm enough under the blanket that had more holes to it than actual fabric, but he didn't want to feel restrained in his actions, either. After some thinking, he pulled his jeans off completely, and Kenny glued his eyes to the bare flesh.

"Dude, you really shouldn't-"

Kyle sat back silently, straddled him, and Kenny's words tumbled down his throat as he felt the man's ass come to rest against his cock. It was pure skin on skin contact, a route they hadn't even considered taking before - and too close to the border of what Kenny was trying to warn his friend about. Kyle felt a little bit threatened by the new feeling, but he wasn't backing out of it now. Not when Kenny was clinging to him like that. Not when he wanted this as badly.

It may have been two mere weeks, but they were plenty.

"We're doing this," Kyle said. With a sigh, Kenny gave up struggling.

"Alright. Alright… let me grab something first."

He reached out to the bedside table, carelessly pushing the lilac skirt out of the way, and his fingers were trembling when they dived into the upper drawer. Kenny snatched out a bottle similar to that he'd used in the living room days ago; he tossed it to Kyle and then dived in again, searching blindly until he found a sealed pack of condoms.

"Here." He dropped it next to Kyle's knee. Kyle trusted that there wasn't any dire need of protection for either of them, but was grateful that Kenny thought about his safety anyway. Almost smiling, he poured some lube on his hand and wrapped his slick fingers around Kenny's cock again, caressing him and drawing an excited moan out of him. Kenny's hands darted to his hips and squeezed them almost painfully.

"Hey, don't break my bones," Kyle cooed, squeezing him in return, though not that fiercely. Absorbed by the treatment he was getting, Kenny didn't hear him, and the grip remained.

Kyle didn't find his own preparation pleasant, not to mention it was terribly embarrassing thanks to the blue eyes that were staring at him the entire time. He didn't have a habit of stretching his ass open on daily basis, and thankfully, Kenny got a hint and lent his hand, burying his fingers inside and taking over. It wasn't very different from the previous time on the couch, but the movements he made were more abrupt, more impatient; Kyle kept himself from groaning best he could, waited till he got used to the feeling.

"Enough," he said when the tension eased, and Kenny turned his attention to the stack of condoms immediately, grabbing it and tearing the paper apart. Insulted by his haste, the condoms fell out of their pack and landed on his stomach - Kenny took one and brushed off the rest. Kyle lifted his hips to give the man more space as he watched; breathless, Kenny rolled the rubber down his shaft and smeared it with lube, making sure it was fully covered. When he was done, he dropped his head on the pillow and nodded. Kyle felt petrified.

 _You can still get up and leave,_ a glimpse in Kenny's eyes told him when the man noticed his hesitation, but that glimpse died down quickly as he returned both hands to Kyle's hips and pulled him down, pleading for continuation. Kyle knew he couldn't stop now, nor did he want to, so he swallowed his fear and smiled through it, giving Kenny exactly what he was hoping to get. His breath hitched as he felt the tip slide in, and then the feeling evolved into something bigger, something alien; Kyle willed himself to relax but didn't succeed.

Kindled by the connection he'd been longing for, Kenny worsened the ordeal by plunging all the way in. Kyle squirmed on top of him and swore.

"You motherfucking- goddamn- shit- _fuck_ \- agh…"

"Sorry," Kenny forced out, stroking his sides soothingly. Kyle shut his mouth and breathed through his nose, in and out, ignoring screams of agony and alert his nerves were throwing at him. They were past the breaching part now at least, and he sat idle, clenching helplessly around the intruder and adapting to it. Kenny waited with him, shivered in anticipation, and after a while, one of his hands took hold of Kyle's neck and the other descended to the man's neglected cock. Kyle felt better when he rubbed it, and leaned down for a kiss that was eagerly returned.

They mashed their mouths together, tongues licking and teeth biting; the sweet, wet mess they created turned out to be an efficient distraction. Combined with the friction Kyle was getting below, it helped to overcome the burn, and he raised his hips, bracing himself for the upcoming ride. He didn't warn Kenny before grinding down onto him with all he had, and though he met no resistance, his friend shook violently, his eyes wide and mouth quivering.

"Sorry," Kyle echoed with a grin.

"N-nothing to be sorry about…" Kenny choked out, gazing through him.

They started to move together in a mismatching rhythm that gradually got more accurate; arched into each other, embraced each other, never broke the string of open mouthed kisses. Kenny's hips rolled up slowly but precisely, and Kyle could feel him stretching the walls wider – actually, he couldn't really focus on anything besides that. The man's hand kept a good pressure on his cock, but the presence of a foreign object in his ass was a lot sharper.

Pleasure came with time. Dense at first, it grew stronger, heating up with each movement Kenny made and Kyle accepted, and when Kyle eventually pulled away from the man's lips, it was to moan against them.

"Fuck…"

Kenny grunted in approval and slammed harder, squeezed him tighter- and then he was suddenly flipping them over. Kyle found himself pinned to the bed, and the man bit into his neck, taking him back to the dusty storage room in the mall. Kyle had been irritated back then, cautious about marks, but now he only tilted his head to the side, throbbing, offering Kenny every inch of his skin.

"Leave as many as you want," he said.

Kenny thrust in deep.


	11. Chapter 11

"Now _this_ , this is pure work of art," Kenny stated with a proud smile, poking the exposed skin below Kyle's ear and then dragging his fingers down to the man's collarbone. They were lying next to each other in the middle of a havoc they'd wrought upon the bed, still not completely released from the aftermath, still flushed and breathing heavily, and with their tired bodies wrapped in the blanket. To ensure Kyle's comfort, Kenny had covered the holes with his dress and superhero outfit. "You wanna see?"

Kyle had an approximate idea of what he would discover once he got his hands on his phone, and was already counting the amount of turtlenecks and scarves he had stocked in his wardrobe. Kenny had really thrown his self-restraint out of the window back there… not that he minded.

"Yeah," he eventually breathed out, dropping his hand to the floor where his coat was resting on the wooden planks by the bedside table: Kenny had pushed it down from the top during his clumsy rummaging through the upper drawer. Kyle pulled out the device and brought it to his neck, switching to the front camera – a bunch of fresh, dark hickeys stared back at him from the screen, and he could see vivid bite marks decorating the same spot where Kenny had bitten him for the first time in the mall. Suspicious as it seemed, it had to be a coincidence: when Kenny's teeth had sunk in, he was way too out of it to be thinking about anything other than rocking his hips back and forth.

"Well, what's the verdict?" the man murmured, propping himself on his elbow. Kyle turned the screen off.

"It's gonna take ages to fade," he voiced the first thing that came to his mind. Seeing how his friend's smile momentarily weakened, he added: "Didn't say it's a bad thing, Kenny. Besides, I asked you to do it, didn't I?"

The man nodded slowly, relaxing against his side once again.

"'suppose so," he said. "It's all fuzzy now."

After that, both of them fell silent for a while, watching small fractures of dust float above their feet in a broad, all-devouring ray of sunlight - it was creeping into the room through the gaps in between the duct tape, clinging to the walls and hanging from the corners of the furniture. If Kyle strained his ears and concentrated, he could make out tiny squeaking noises coming from the kitchen, which, he realized, didn't bother him at all anymore. Neither did cold air that was prickling the cloth layers from all sides: it simply melted when it tried to seep in, defenseless against the body heat beneath. Kyle thought about it all, summed it up, and reached the same conclusion he'd had a day ago. He was content.

Kenny's palm slid down to his chest, meeting his heartbeat.

"I should probably get up," the man sighed, but made no attempt to bring his words into action. "Damn."

Kyle chuckled at his evident reluctance to leave. "Dude, it's not like I'm gonna vanish the second you walk out. And I should be heading home anyway."

"I know. Can't go back to office looking like this, right?" Kenny caught up, his eyes trailing down to the messy shirt Kyle still had on and then back to his neck. "Though I must admit, I'm enjoying the view quite a lot."

"Shut up." Kyle's chuckle bloomed into shy laughter, and he nudged the man with his elbow, forcing him to roll on his back. "Come on, Kenny, let's go. We've got work to do."

"Yeah, alright," Kenny agreed.

He said that, but as Kyle was battling his own laziness and moving to sit up, a hand shot up and pulled him back to where he'd been lying.

"Kenny-" the man started.

"Two more minutes," Kenny whispered against his cheek. "Just two more minutes."

* * *

Despite being as thin as a piece of cardboard, Kenny had Mysterion's strength coursing in his arms, and that proved to be a rather challenging obstacle when Kyle attempted to free himself from the hold and get off the bed. "Two more minutes" morphed into five, then ten, and then he had to remind his friend that time wasn't on their side here and that working meant a stable income – that made Kenny more eager to let go.

However, he didn't allow Kyle to leave his place - not without pulling him through an awkward hickey-covering procedure first. Kyle had no choice but to accept the treatment, sitting on the couch with quiet obedience and tipping his head to the side while Kenny applied various cosmetic products to his neck. The contact his fingers made with the sensitive skin felt smooth and a little exciting, and when Kyle saw his reflection in the mirror several minutes after, he was amazed at how faint the marks had become. If he hadn't known better, he would have assumed there was nothing out of the ordinary.

They split by the railroad with an exchange of "see you later"s and a bottle of concealer that was tossed into Kyle's hands – just in case something went wrong with the make-up later. Kenny turned towards the playground with a sunny smile, waved his hand, and Kyle instinctively pulled up the collar of his coat before taking off towards the Broflovski residence.

Turned out, his parents were already up, and when Kyle stepped into the living room, he squeezed the bottle and looked around, feeling like he was trying to smuggle banned goods into his own country. Thankfully, both Sheila and Gerald were absorbed by the breakfast they were having in the kitchen, and he used the opportunity to hurry upstairs to his room with a loud "I'm home, gonna join you in a few." He was in a desperate need of a cloth change.

The following hours felt more familiar thanks to homemade food and a ton of work that dropped its weight on Kyle's shoulders as soon as he crossed the office doorstep. Gerald went to the office phone on instant, busying himself with whatever it was he had to do, and Kyle opened his task list to check the objectives for the day - his schedule was chock-full till launch break. He sat down at the table and turned on his computer, preparing himself for a good old business day of an average human being...

Except Kenny picked the exact same moment to start spamming him with messages.

 _[hey dude so i was thinkin]_

 _[u n me]_

 _[were a thing now right]_

 _[like for real]_

Kyle put off his duties for the time being, wondering where Kenny was going with this. They hadn't discussed their relationship yet, simply went with the flow. He'd thought that was enough.

 _[I guess. Why?]_

 _[cool so]_

 _[does that mean i can climb up to ur room and jerk off while ur asleep]_

 _[without having to fear for my life]_

Kyle's initial reaction was to facepalm at such a display of silliness, but irritation was swiftly removed by a warm feeling that rose in his chest at the thought of Kenny flirting again. It was a fair indicator that the man's mood was gravitating towards a cheerful state, and Kyle couldn't help taking part in it. He decided that a bit of teasing might be a nice thing to offer.

 _[Why don't you climb up there while I'm awake? You might like what you find.]_

There was no way Kenny saw that coming - in fact, the dots on his side of the chat window popped on and off as he repeatedly typed and erased his reply, and after a minute of miserable struggling they died altogether, declaring Kyle's victory. He put the phone aside and returned to work, his mind continuing to attach itself to the recent changes.

In general, Kyle was still somewhat surprised at how easily his rational side was adapting to the idea of having Kenny as his lover – every step they were making towards each other felt natural, and he didn't doubt himself anymore. Kenny seemed to be brewing similar views, though it was obvious from his behavior that he had never been in a serious relationship, probably due to whatever fucked up childhood he had behind his back. Kyle understood that without asking, wanted to use each grain of influence he had to make things better – not out of desire to control, but because he believed Kenny deserved much more than he received.

His phone buzzed, and he picked it up again, watching as two new messages appeared on the screen. Neither of them was touched by Kenny's habit of altering the auto grammar to his liking.

 _[I don't know what infected us in that alley when we met]_

 _[But I've never been so grateful in my entire life]_

Kyle nodded. He knew.

 _[It might not look like I'm serious about this sometimes]_

 _[But I'm giving it my all]_

 _[I swear]_

 _[I know, Kenny. Same here.]_

 _[Thank you]_

The dots stopped, and Kyle thought that maybe Kenny required some more time to stomach the concept of his flirting attempts not going to waste like before. He left the man to it and threw his attention back to work, strong in his element and ready to fill every objective he had on his list.

His phone didn't bother him for a long while, and though Kyle was still thinking about the heated morning from time to time and catching himself when his mind wandered off too far, he couldn't say it took a tremendous toll on his overall productivity. Gerald went out of the office when both clock hands reached midday and said he wouldn't be back till four - Kyle took over without any complaints and stuffed what free time he had left with receiving calls and making appointments. The lunch break crept towards him so silently he almost missed it.

When he was finally done and leaving his workplace to grab some food from the grocery store, his phone signaled an incoming message again. The name had been expected, and when Kyle opened the chat box, Kenny's deceased grammar greeted him with another question.

 _[so ur ivniting me over tonight]_

At least Kyle supposed it was one. So he answered.

 _[Yes.]_

The speed of Kenny's replies jumped to the skies.

 _[baaaabe]_

 _[i like where this is goig]_

 _[want me to wear my superhero costume]_

 _[or maybe u prefer the fairest maiden]_

 _[winkwink]_

 _[pick whichever u watn]_

 _[im all forboth]_

 _[orrr surprise me]_

For a man who was almost literally living in ruins, Kenny was totally indifferent when it came to wasting his money on texting. Kyle figured it was one of those things he cherished more than food in his fridge, or maybe the man had found a way to avoid paying… At any rate, messages continued to flood the chat window, confirming that Kenny had returned to normal. Kyle responded to some of them before checking the clock and leaving the rest for later – his lunch break was escaping while he wasn't looking.

Outside, South Park met him with crispy chillness, a street dog that was running away from an enraged chicken, and a crowd of little knight-girls storming down the sidewalk with their schoolbags thrown over their shoulders – nothing unusual. Kyle hardly noticed them, too used to the town's unique character by this point. Honestly, he felt like he'd been living here for all his life, and Miami was but a vague dream that belonged to somebody else. Weeks ago, he'd come here without any hope to have a satisfying life, and now it was turning out that he was mistaken. Satisfying life didn't come with career, big cities and endless work; it came with Kenny, with busy mall escalators and with ridiculous but breathtaking events like spying on an abandoned farmhouse in the middle of the night or observing as a manly princess hopped on the back of a majestic steed, singing a Japanese song Kyle had no clue how to translate. ManPig was still out there somewhere, hunting, and that was the only thing that had to be fixed.

Upon entering the store, Kyle belatedly realized that he'd left his phone back in the office because he was much too absorbed by his own thoughts. It wasn't that big of a deal, though: he didn't need anything besides his wallet in here, and his building was a few minutes away. Having no worries, he took a couple of chicken sandwiches and a can of soda, and then passed the fruit shelves as fast as he could, avoiding bananas and everything they touched. There were two people hanging by the register, and he joined the queue, waiting patiently for it to pass.

"Hey you! Green hat dude!"

He flinched, recognizing the high pitched voice. It took a second to locate the owner, and soon Kyle's eyes fell on the entrance to the store where a ten year old boy was standing – the hashtag lover, again. For some reason, he didn't look very happy today… Quite the contrary, his chest was heaving as if he'd run a mile, his hair was tousled, and his jacket was covered in dirt. Kyle dropped his purchase on the table next to the register and rushed to the kid's side.

"What happened?!" he blurted, squatting so that they would share an eye level. The boy pressed his phone to his chest; he didn't look scared, but confusion and anger were there, on the surface.

"It's the princess," he grunted, gritting his teeth. Kyle blinked.

"What…?"

"The princess!" the boy spat, scowling at the man as if _he_ was the source of the problem. "We decided to go to the farms ourselves this morning because we wanted more information… and guess what happened."

It took a moment for Kyle to wrap his head around what he'd just heard. When he did, disbelief and horror jolted into his blood stream, and he shuddered, hoping he'd gotten it wrong and knowing that he hadn't. He'd made what he could to distract the boys from the farm houses, promised to update them whenever he learned something new, and yet they stuck their noses into the danger's nest anyway.

"You went there?!"

He wanted to yell at their stupidity, wanted to know what sort of information could have possibly lured them all out, searching… and he also failed to understand how the princess was tied into this. He'd spent the whole morning with Kenny, held him, felt him – that, and none of the man's incredible abilities provided him with power to be in two places at the same time.

"What happened?" Kyle asked once again. The boy huffed, folded his hands over his chest.

"Magic happened, dude. We came there, found the house you filmed, and it was empty. Then we went farther and saw a barn, and that's when it all began. That dumb music started playing out of nowhere, trees turned into candy, freakin' soda poured from the sky… And then a giant castle grew from beyond the ground, and everyone ran towards it."

"What the hell…?"

"I told you, it's magic, for real. This princess of yours used it to charm us and make us surrender. Well, we didn't actually see her in person, but we did meet her fairy pixie bitches and that enormous guardian dude who took some of us inside and told the rest to fuck off-"

"Whom exactly?"

"Um, Frank and Ewan…" the boy answered thoughtfully, his irritation subsiding. "Yosuke too, I think… but names won't tell you much, will they? The guardian took gingers."

"Gingers," Kyle repeated.

"Yeah, as prisoners. Look, dude, this is insane, way out of line, so we're marching back to the farms, and so do girls. We're gonna beat the shit out of them once and for all, and that's why I've been looking for- hey, where are you going?"

Kyle sprang to his feet, needing to hear no more. His hand darted to his pocket and-

 _Shit,_ he thought as it grasped nothing. _That's right,_ _I left it in the office…_

In the course of one day, everything he and Kenny had achieved, everything they'd been fighting to establish was crumbling at their feet, and he didn't even have his phone on him. ManPig was acting again, took children, and not only that.

"Magic, you say," Kyle muttered, taking a step to the exit. Lunch was forgotten. "Listen, kid, you should go home and stay with your parents, alright? I'll deal with this myself."

"Yeah, okay," the boy answered, though it was clear from his face as well as the tone of his voice that he wasn't going to follow anyone's instructions. "Do something about the princess and her magic, and we'll show those girls who's the boss in this town. I'm gonna blow away the Internet."

* * *

Eleven missed calls from Kenny, seven from Stan, and half a hundred of unread messages from both of them – Kyle found the notifications glowing in distress when he unlocked his phone minutes later, nearly choking from the sprint he'd had to take in order to get to the office faster. He sat down on his chair and straightened his legs under the table, giving them some rest while his fingers glided over the screen and sent the texts up. Their phrasing was different, but meaning mostly identical: apparently, alerted by the missing children, someone from the school staff took the witnesses and went straight to the police department. Cars were being dispatched, all of them at once - Craig must have pulled some strings.

"Jesus Christ…" Kyle whispered, switching to the dial. Kenny came to his mind first, so he chose the man's contact from the list and was about to hit the green button-

But Stan was ahead of him. His name and icon flashed over Kenny's profile, accompanied by short beeping sounds and vibrations. Kyle picked up.

"Stan, what's-"

" _Oh thank god,"_ Stan interrupted him with a relieved exhale. _"Man, you had me worried out here. Have you seen what I wrote?"_

"About the children, yeah," Kyle answered, fidgeting on his seat. He didn't mind talking to Stan about the upcoming barn raid, but not right now – now he desperately needed to contact Kenny. The hashtag boy mentioned some kind of illusive magic residing in the farms, and if he thought back to the alley encounter, he could see new fragments starting to add themselves to the puzzle. Maybe the fairy tale hadn't begun out of nowhere, maybe it had a living source – just like the princess's magic had Kenny. Kyle had seen charms in action, involuntarily tested them on himself, and thus knew how captivating they could be. The whole seizing operation could turn into a trap.

And the kids were getting there, too.

He swallowed nervously. "Listen, Stan, it's cool to hear you and all, but I really need to-"

" _I'm here with Craig and the others."_

"What?!"

He stood back up, eyes wide.

" _We can talk about the reason later. I'm calling to ask you about-"_

"Stan! You've got to be careful!" Kyle cut him off. "Do you know about ManPig's magic?!"

" _Uuh what? Some kids told us about seeing things, but… dude, you don't actually expect the police to believe in magic, do you? It's unreal."_

"Unreal or not, it's not a lie. You might be walking into something you don't know how to fight. And besides, those kids are heading your way..."

" _What?!"_ Now it was Stan's turn to gape. _"What do you mean they're heading our way? What for- h-hey- Craig, wait-"_

Kyle heard sharp rustling on the other side, and Stan's voice disappeared from the speaker. A few distant shouts flew into the man's ear next, but he couldn't decipher them.

"Stan…?" he called.

" _It's me,"_ Craig answered instead of his friend, sounding as neutral as ever. _"Who's coming here?"_

"Boys and girls from the elementary school," Kyle answered quickly, glad to be hearing someone from the police - and especially a man he knew personally. "They're about to have their final battle in the farms."

" _Perfect,"_ Craig sighed. _"What else were you talking about?"_

"Magic. Remember when we visited you yesterday and Kenny was causing, well… things? I think ManPig has a similar ability. He might use it against you."

" _Got it."_

Craig didn't seem to be taken aback by the news, no matter how ridiculous they were looking. For a second, Kyle even assumed that he knew how to bypass the psychopath's charms – and why not, he'd resisted the princess's ones, after all. But then Craig was sighing again, and Kyle understood that he'd been celebrating too early.

" _Thanks for the warning,"_ the officer said. _"We can't go back now, but I'll keep that in mind. Also, I need your help."_

Kyle stepped towards the door without hesitation. "I'm listening."

" _Kenny told me you have a good relationship with the boys. And you're…"_ The man groaned quietly, as if he was already regretting what he was about to say. _"You're Lady McCormick's servant, so the girls should listen to you as well."_

"Wait, you want me to hold them all back…?" Kyle asked, pressing the phone up with his shoulder while he was putting on his coat. "I'm just one man…"

" _Yes, but they respect you. That means something,"_ Craig said. _" Distract them, and their parents will eventually arrive and back you up."_

"…okay. I'm on my way."

" _Just don't get too close to the farms."_

"Yeah."

Craig broke the call there, and Kyle bolted out of the office, his thoughts competing on a racing tournament as he locked the door. Walking to his destination would take about half an hour, and it wasn't like he had such luxury; he'd have to take a bus and ride it to U-Stor-It. He also had to dial Kenny's number while he was at it – not only because the man had tried to call him a dozen of times, but because Mysterion would attempt to infiltrate the scene without question (which was as literal as it was metaphorical. He'd gifted his cape to the princess, yet Kyle had no doubt the man would find a replacement and go anyway. He'd lost his entire outfit once, and that didn't stop him from piecing it together with scraps).

There was a bus stop next to the grocery store, and a bus was arriving just in time to pick him up. Praising the miraculous strike of luck, Kyle got in and grabbed a stanchion for support while his free hand fumbled with the phone, fingers tapping at the digital buttons and searching for Kenny's name. He brought the device to his ear, and four beeps later a low, raspy voice answered him.

" _Kyle. Where are you now."_

Between the words, Mysterion's breath was coming out uneven, shaky, and Kyle pictured him running above the town streets, crossing edgy rooftops and jumping over signs and working chimneys. The hero was making it to the farms.

"I'm in a bus, heading to U-Stor-It," the man said, taking a look around to make sure he was standing too far from the other passengers to be eavesdropped on. "You found a replacement for your cape?"

" _Yeah, but that's not important right now. You should have stayed at work, Kyle. It's dangerous out there, and you know it."_

"Craig asked for my help, though. The elementary school kids are marching towards the barn. They're up for an epic battle."

Loud clanking noise rose from the other end, and Mysterion grunted in pain. He must have run into something he hadn't seen coming.

"You okay?" Kyle asked.

" _Yeah, just a… bad landing. I'm fine,"_ the man assured him. _"Didn't know the situation was this bad. What did Craig ask of you?"_

"He wants me to convince the kids that violence is unnecessary. Believes I have enough authority… though I think you'd be more effective in this."

" _Among the boys - maybe,"_ Mysterion corrected him. _"But that would make the girls furious. They'd want the princess to come to their aid, and I can't split into two people. Plus, becoming a maiden needs certain preparations."_

"Guess I'll have to do my best then." Kyle summed up.

" _Just don't get too close to the farms._ "

"That's exactly what Craig told me. I'll stay away from the operation, don't worry." Kyle eyed the flashing houses outside, determining his whereabouts. He was almost there. "By the way… you know about the magic part, right?"

Mysterion didn't respond right away, his hitching breath filling the line and serving as Kyle's only companion for a while. Then a cautious, nearly inaudible question followed.

" _What about it?"_

"I think it might belong to ManPig. The police are at risk and…" Slowly, the man trailed off. He'd been meaning to bring up the alley incident, but perhaps it wasn't the best time to talk about that.

Mysterion, however, picked up on the unsaid and went on with it himself. _"You think he's the one who launched our visions?"_

"Yeah. Kids experienced something like that when they invaded his territory. That's too convenient to be a coincidence, don't you think?"

"… _you weren't delusional in the alley,"_ the hero reminded him. Kyle didn't like how insecure he was sounding all of a sudden.

"Yes, but you were wearing the mask," he countered. "That could do the trick."

" _Even if so, there's one more thing that doesn't fit in. Our condition is chronic, and those children got rid of theirs as soon as they left the area."_

"Well, maybe ManPig did something to us that he didn't do to them."

The steel nets of U-Stor-It fences showed up ahead as the bus was rolling its wheels towards the local stop, and Kyle glanced through the driver's window to see if anyone was engaged in mortal combat yet. He immediately spotted several girls walking past the storages: they were wearing self-made armor and bearing nasty looking swords in their hands, which itself wasn't very threatening… until Kyle decided to trace the direction in which they were heading and saw something way more concerning.

A huge crowd of children had gathered at the end of the street, where pavement met mud and buildings gave way to open fields and vast forests. Boys were hanging on one side, and girls on the other - both armed with weapons that looked a little too real for Kyle's liking. A thought of getting stabbed on the peace-making mission rose in the man's head when he noticed something off about the whole thing: neither party had attacked yet, and it didn't look like they were meaning to. They just stood there, giving each other evil eyes and doing absolutely nothing.

"Dude…"

" _Kyle, we don't know anything for sure,"_ Mysterion was saying _. "We need to capture him first, then we'll see what we can do-"_

"Mysterion," Kyle interrupted him. "I think something's wrong. I'm at U-Stor-It, and there's an army of children here…"

" _Are they fighting?"_

"No. Just standing there, looking at each other. Not even arguing... And that's not all."

What stunned Kyle even more was the amount of police cars lingering on the dirt field meters away from the kids. Half of them were empty and with their doors swung open, and some still had their drivers inside. All around, illuminated by flickering lights of red and blue, numerous officers were scattered, their clubs and pistols out but lowered. Like the young dwellers of South Park, they didn't seem to acknowledge their surroundings, and simply wandered about, gazing at the empty air.

It almost looked like they were entranced.

"Holy shit…" Kyle whispered as the terrifying thought came to him.

" _What's happening there?"_ Mysterion questioned, but instead of answering, the man ran up to the driver. People stared at him in shock. _"Kyle?!"_

"Turn around!" he shouted. "Turn around or stop the bus, now!"

The driver looked up at him and raised an eyebrow as if he'd just heard something utterly senseless. "We're almost at the final stop, sir," he said politely. "Please sit down and wait."

" _Kyle!"_

The armed girls halted on the sidewalk, and their hands dropped to their sides, limp.

"Stop! The bus!" Kyle ordered again, but the only thing he managed to achieve was an annoyed glare.

"Sir, I can't just-"

All of a sudden, the reality stretched, and the driver's mouth came to a freeze without ever finishing the sentence. Kyle backed away from the cabin as the world outside painted itself lilac and violet, tried to get away from the range of the spell – alas, there was nowhere to run. The air charged with energy, surged through the bus and ignited all its passengers; angels descended from the sky, tens of moons and suns whirled around the town, pavement turned into silk…

The illusions were coming back full force, and Kyle couldn't hide from them. He'd never thought ManPig had such strength.

" _Kyle, are you alright?!"_ Kenny was yelling now, drenched in fear and forgetting to put on his superhero voice. Absorbed by the magic, Kyle couldn't bring himself to answer.

 _Oh - once in your life you find someone_

 _Who will turn your world around_

 _Bring you up when you're feeling down…_

" _Answer me, please! Kyle!"_

 _Yeah – nothing could change what you mean to me_

 _Oh there's lots that I could say_

 _But just hold me now_

 _Cause our love will light the way…_

The bus continued to move forward, no longer driven by anyone.

* * *

Song: Heaven by Bryan Adams


	12. Chapter 12

Kyle groaned as he slowly came to his senses, his eyelids shut tight and jaw feeling extremely uncomfortable against the rough surface of whatever floor he'd been lying on for god knew how long. Actually, it wasn't just his jaw - his entire body was stiff and complaining, and he immediately rolled on his side to at least offer himself a better position. His fingertips came across fragile, little pieces of dirt, and he cringed on instinct, drawing his hand away. Wherever he'd gotten after passing out in the bus, the place was disgusting.

" _Ah- ah-"_

He could hear one of those cheesy love songs playing somewhere in the back of his head; the tune was gnawing at his brain cells but luckily hadn't grown to its worst volume yet, just made him wish he could feel two lean but firm arms locking around his waist. There was also a strange blur of smells floating around, and it bore something sharp and sugary and at the same time weirdly refreshing; Kyle unconsciously linked it to his morning routines, to radio stations and newspapers, to yawns and elaborate task lists. He opened his eyes, skipping the guessing part, and went straight for the answer.

" _Keep it-nghh… on…"_

" _Aaah-"_

Kyle did find an answer… but not the one he'd been looking for.

"What the…"

He found himself locked in a cage – a real cage made of real steel, one of those kinds people used to keep various animals imprisoned. Kyle's heart picked up rate as he realized his freedom was limited, but he didn't concede to panic, probably due to the fairy tale that was still keeping its clutch on him and forcing haziness upon his already bleary mind. His thoughts refused to flow properly, dragged him back towards the railroad and the house beyond it, and when he stood up, he did so calmly. His phone was gone, he must have dropped it in the bus.

"Damn."

ManPig was nowhere in sight, and that gave him an opportunity to approach the cage door and stick his hand out to search for the latch. While doing so, Kyle checked his surroundings.

The cage was situated in a vast, poorly lighted room – a basement, most likely – and the ceiling was placed so high he wouldn't be able to reach it even if he climbed on something big like the glittering rainbow turtle that was sleeping outside the bars a few feet away. The walls stood wide apart from each other, and in the far corner of the room a narrow stairway was going up to the floor above. Surprisingly but not quite, said ceiling, stairway and walls were covered with red hair, and so were rare pieces of wooden furniture, several paintings hanging around and dull lamps. Kyle couldn't get it what kind of a weirdo ManPig could be to have an urge to decorate everything in such an absurd manner.

" _Faster, faster-"_

Then there were cages - a dozen of them standing flat to the walls around the perimeter of the room. Each of them contained at least one prisoner, almost all of them naked, and Kyle (thankfully, still fully clothed) quickly grasped it that everybody in here was either a ginger or completely bald. Considering the room-shaped tapestry ManPig was in the process of making, it was no longer a secret where all the hair was going to. Kyle's eyes darted from one person to another, and he noticed that they weren't much interested in finding a way out of their prisons: they mumbled to themselves with content faces, sat quietly behind the bars and stared into empty space.

He recognized a few people from the newspapers: Craig's father was among them, and so was Kenny's mother, both of them unharmed. In the cage next to Mrs. McCormick's were the three missing elementary school children, dressed up and satisfied with their current residence, without any clue as to where they actually were.

After a minute of observing, Kyle discovered that all the cages had the same latch, a simple one that didn't require a key to be opened. He raised his hand and felt the upper bars until his fingers brushed against a sliding bolt - he pulled it aside, and the door opened with a miserable creak. The man walked out, carefully avoiding the red carpet under his feet.

" _AH-!"_

A loud gasp rose on his left and startled him, albeit slightly. Kyle finally noticed all the moaning that was patching through the romantic music and turned his head to look at the source. His glance fell upon an old TV stand by the stairway, and for a moment he glued his attention to the frantically moving bodies on the screen: the rhythm, the nakedness, the sounds of sexual intercourse unfolding between several masked men and a single woman – he was staring at homemade porn. The working VCR nearby indicated that it was a recording, and while such a display would normally disturb Kyle and push him towards turning the machine off, this time he just shrugged and averted his eyes. A colorful box was lying on top of the VCR – _Hotline, collector's edition_.

"What the hell…"

He focused all the rationality he had remaining on finding his way out of the building and back to the farms. Kenny was somewhere out there, looking for him, and so could be Stan and Craig. Kyle knew that he needed to get to them, to tell them what was hiding down here, to help them seize ManPig and release the captives…

He was about to head towards the stairway when Kenny's mother giggled through her blissful happiness and attracted his attention, making him halt.

"Hm-m…"

Kyle considered walking up to her cage and trying to talk to her. Telling her that her son would come and rescue her no matter what. Then, however, he shooed the idea away: he'd witnessed plenty of ManPig's magic already and doubted that Mrs. McCormick would respond if he addressed her. She was a subject to the spell, and if Kyle wanted to wake her and everyone else up, he'd have to find the source of the charms first, sort out its mechanism and destroy it.

He tore his eyes away from the woman and grabbed the wooden rail-

"Yes, my dear son told me it is ready," a muffled feminine voice seeped through the closed door above. "The bags should be down there! Come on, my friends, let's take them and make more of our purifying drink!"

Kyle bolted back to his cage on instant. He hadn't processed it, just knew that someone was coming down, and his feet acted on their own accord.

"How many bags?" a raspy yet friendly masculine voice asked. "Three, like usual?"

"Two, I believe," the feminine one responded. "We weren't expecting any visitors today…"

Kyle barely managed to shut the latch and drop to the floor, shifting on his stomach sideways to the wall - this way, he would be able to watch the visitors and pass as a feeble minded lunatic if he had to. His reduced emotional condition would only help.

Three people descended the stairs, and Kyle recognized two of them as the farmers from yesterday evening – they'd been tending to the cows when he and Kenny had arrived on their spy operation. The third person was an elderly woman, whom, he thought, he'd also seen somewhere… but he couldn't recall where exactly, it must have happened a long time ago.

"On the shelf?" one of the men asked.

"Yes."

They approached the rainbow turtle, and he opened a cell of its thick, round shell, making Kyle wonder if the animal wasn't an illusion after all. He took a brown bag out and opened it, presenting the contents to the woman - with a nod, she took a pinch of whatever was lying inside and loosened her fingers, letting it fall back down. Kyle squinted his eyes.

It was hair, but definitely not the type that grew on people's heads.

"What a gorgeous and precise work," the woman said affectionately, pressing her old, dry hand to her chest. "My son is a real master. Such a good boy, such a kind heart…"

She took the bag and waited for the other one to be handed over.

"We will need more of this…" the idle farmer said. "Business has been going great so far, we can't rest on our laurels."

"That's right," the other agreed, closing the cell. "The town adores our coffee shop. Needs it. We have to aim higher."

The woman all but glowed with pride at their eagerness. "My dear boys, our shop will become the cradle of their salvation. Now let us return to the mall and restock our supplies."

"Yes, ma'am!"

"Wait."

Kyle's breath slowed down, his eyelids falling shut as one of the farmers suddenly stepped towards his cage.

"Ah." The woman smiled – Kyle didn't see, but he heard it in her voice. "Of course. Our handsome prince, finally where he belongs… here, with us."

More steps indicated that all three of them approached the bars. Kyle thanked the fairy tale for the first time in his life - without it, his heart would have been beating like a giant hammer.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" the woman said. Despite the admiring words, she sounded so grim as if her favorite pet had recently died. "It used to look fabulous when it was longer… I saw it once before he had it cut."

Kyle let out a trembling sigh. He lay there, on the dusty, cold floor, and these people were watching him from above like he was nothing but a low life.

"My son was so devastated when he saw it this short mere days after their first encounter... So many people he could have saved with such fine material. So many dreams… Didn't even want to see this boy anymore, so hurt he was. But now look, here he is, lying in his chamber, in his magnificent bed - so quiet, so peaceful."

"It will grow back one day," one of the men reassured her.

"Yes, it will," she said. "It certainly will… Come, my boys, let us go back now."

Kyle heard them retreating but didn't move an inch, thinking about what he'd just heard. Apparently, if his "chamber" and "bed" were anything to go by, the three visitors were enchanted like the rest of this place but not with the same amount of power behind it. That could be because the elderly woman was ManPig's mother – or at least Kyle assumed so from her speech and the repulsively decorated room full of red-haired captives.

The other thing was the two brown bags filled with hair that…

The door above closed with a loud thud, and Kyle rose to his feet, wrapping his hands around himself as he turned towards the neighboring cage. A naked, shaved man was lying flat on his back in there, and on his chest, his hands and his feet was nothing but pale, dirty skin. He didn't have any pubic hair, either. Kyle checked a few other people and saw that they were _completely_ bald as well. Combined with what he'd seen fall from the woman's grasp, it could mean less than few things…

She'd said they made it in the mall. Coffee that the town adored. Kilometer queues and countless steaming white mugs, Kyle knew only one place that fit the description.

"Jesus fucking Christ…"

After a moment of weak gagging reflexes, he re-opened the cage and proceeded towards the stairway, listening closely to every little sound he could hear through the unending music. The coffee makers seemed to have already left, and he didn't think ManPig was chilling on the ground floor: the man probably had his hands full with the police, otherwise he would have been sitting down here and undressing his new prisoners… which made Kyle remember the woman's words once again. She'd said that her son was kind, that what he had been doing for all this time was for greater good. Every person down here was alive and unharmed, no signs of beating or else, and perhaps ManPig actually thought he was doing something right. The whole thing smelled like mental hospital, and Kyle couldn't understand it at all.

He crept up the stairs and opened the door as carefully as he could, peeking through the gap to see if he was alone - like he'd thought, the room was empty. It was a kitchen, a medium-sized one, with old wooden cupboards and peeling wallpapers, with plastic basins for cloth washing and dozens of sticky fly tapes hanging from the ceiling. With his eyes, Kyle searched the place for a phone but didn't find it; however, his eyes lay upon a freezer - on top of it was a handgun. Kyle didn't think twice before snatching it; even with the fuzzy layer suffocating his common sense, he still maintained a thread of awareness and thus decided that being armed was better than- well, not being armed.

As soon as he touched the weapon, a flash of warmth radiated from it and lunged through his veins: despite seeing this gun for the first time, Kyle felt like he knew whom exactly it belonged to. He made sure it was loaded, internally thanking Stan and Kenny for teaching him how to do it.

Next thing he saw was a window; he rushed towards it, pushing tiny pixie creatures out of his way. Outside he saw a painting made by a madman: there were normal things like stables, farm houses, the pasture field and the forest that encircled the area… but then there was also everything Kyle had seen during the minutes of hallucinating: sparkles, candy trees, watery orbs flying in the air, blazing colors – all of that and more, but much stronger.

ManPig wasn't anywhere in sight, yet to his surprise Kyle spotted police officers hiding behind what could only be described as empty air, lurking among covers that didn't exist and evidently carrying out some kind of a crucial mission. Unlike the people below, they seemed to retain a fracture of their consciousness, but… unless ManPig had become invisible together with everything they were using as tactical advantages, Kyle was pretty sure they had it worse than he did. Craig and Stan were leading the maneuvers from behind a half-ruined fence, and he hurried out of the house to talk to them.

"Hey!" he called out.

Stan didn't notice him, or he did but didn't think it necessary to look over his shoulder. Craig, on the other hand, quickly turned around and lifted a finger to his lips, hushing Kyle with a deep scowl. He waved his hand, urging the man to approach faster, and Kyle complied without another word.

"What are you doing?" he asked upon joining the two men. "Have you seen ManPig?"

Craig stole a glance at the officers under his command before responding.

"We're trying to catch The Twilight Pegasus," he said in a tone that sounded far too grave to fit such a ridiculous situation. "He's tough, has been evading us for the last half an hour."

"A Pegasus," Kyle repeated in disbelief, watching the grass field before them: it was innocently empty save for the armed members of the force. "You can't be serious…"

" _The Twilight_ Pegasus," Craig corrected him. "You don't understand, Kyle. He's behind it all."

"Behind what?"

"He's the one who's been kidnapping chocolate sheep and eating them," Stan answered, throwing a _haven't-you-read-the-latest-newspaper-?_ look at him. "Lily Bell is practically losing her mind."

"Lily Bell." With a heavy sigh, Kyle pressed a palm to his forehead. He couldn't believe this circus. "Who the hell is Lily Bell? You're supposed to be going after ManPig, guys. Doesn't the name ring any bells?"

"Not really."

Suddenly, Stan sprang to his feet.

"Shit, he's making a run for it!" he yelled, aiming at nothing. "Craig! If he makes it to the rainbow, all is lost!"

"Don't worry. He won't," Craig assured him.

The officer grabbed his walkie-talkie and brought it to his mouth; as he began to bark directions left and right, mark sniper spots and reassign groups, Kyle could do nothing but come to terms with the fact that he was on his own here. The officers ran about, hopped over absent obstacles and took cover in open space, and it became painfully clear why ManPig was not interested in such a company.

"Ugh…" Kyle's hand slid down from his forehead, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Alright, okay… Can one of you give me a cell phone, please? I need to make a call."

"Dude, it's not time for that!" Stan hissed, annoyed by the continuous attempts to distract him.

"It's urgent, Stan," Kyle argued. "Give it to me, and I will leave you to… whatever it is you're doing."

"Fine! Jesus Christ, man…"

The phone was swiftly pulled out of Stan's jacket and tossed into Kyle's hands; the latter fulfilled his part of the deal as well and took a few steps away, scrolling down the contact list. Cartman's name came up, and Kyle contemplated dialing the detective for he alone wasn't taking part in the seizing operation... Then, however, he decided against it and scrolled further until he saw the contact that made his heart beat faster. He pushed the green button a little too fiercely and pressed the phone to his ear.

"Come on… come on…"

 _Beep- beep- beep-_

" _Stan! What's going on there?!"_ Mysterion's voice jolted into Kyle's ear on the fourth beep, loud through the speaker and heating the man's insides like a burning torch. Kyle took a couple of shaky breaths, trying to calm down.

"Sorry… Stan's not available at the moment," he said with a twitching smile, clutching the phone tighter. "Want to talk to me instead?"

He heard a gasp. Seconds later, a relieved exhale followed it.

" _God, Kyle… I'm so happy to hear you,"_ Kenny mumbled. _"Are you safe?"_

"For now, I think so," Kyle answered. "Listen, Kenny, I've been to the basement where ManPig keeps those he kidnapped. Everyone's alive. Your mother's there too, she's okay."

" _I knew it…"_ Kyle could almost physically feel some of Kenny's anxiousness drifting away. The line went silent for a short while, and then he gathered himself and continued talking. _"Good. Now, you're calling from Stan's phone, so I'm assuming you're with him?"_

"Yeah. He, Craig and the rest of the police are having it pretty bad. They don't give a damn about ManPig anymore, just run about the field, trying to capture an imaginary Pegasus."

"The Twilight Pegasus!"

"Right."

Kenny chuckled. _"Is Cartman there? If he is, record that asshole. I want to see it with my own eyes."_

Through the spell, the man's voice was already igniting enough to send Kyle's stomach into a set of pleasurable flips; his laughter struck Kyle even harder, drained his self-control and patience, made his lips dry and his throat prickly. It was becoming difficult to talk.

"…he's not."

" _Damn shame. Anyway, I've been trying to come up with a way to resist ManPig's magic here; people all over the farms and U-Stor-It are affected… but now that you're within his range and seem to be doing okay, I might as well walk right in. You've got to be careful, though. Better hide somewhere and wait until I-"_

"Wait," Kyle cut him off. "It's not that easy."

Kenny trailed off for a moment, puzzled.

" _What do you mean?"_ he asked. Worry returned to his voice, and Kyle shook his head, searching for the right words in the ocean of _please, come here, I want to feel you._

"I'm not okay," he admitted, biting his lower lip. His every fiber was against him saying what he said next. "Shit, dude, I'm affected too. Your voice is driving me crazy, I… I want to touch you so bad. I really do-"

"… _woah."_

"-and I can't turn it off. If you walk in, you'll feel the same thing. I'm scared to even imagine what might happen if we see each other, Kenny. It's too dangerous..."

" _But we don't have any other options left,"_ Kenny argued. _"We both know I'm strong when it comes to temptations, so if you stay out of reach, that may be enough to keep me on the right track. I'll find ManPig, knock him and his magic out, and it'll be over-"_

"And if it won't?"

" _What?"_

"It may be more complicated than we think. I've seen his mother - her and the farmers, too. All of them are under the spell. Have been for a while now, and… uh…"

Kyle caught a smooth movement with the corner of his eye. He tilted his head, scanning the field for the third time: with all the officers running about and the illusions unraveling it was rather challenging to see anything. He hummed and looked closer.

" _Kyle?"_ Kenny called him. _"What's wrong?"_

"I don't know…" he muttered. "I think I saw something…"

Then he saw it again. Another movement came from behind one of the candy trees, and a huge masked man in a dark coat wandered into his view, carrying a pair of scissors in his hand and observing the officers. Kyle shuddered as he realized that he knew that coat and he knew those scissors, and he sure as hell knew that mask. It was no other than ManPig himself, coming home from wherever he'd been hanging out before. Kyle gulped; he was standing in plain sight.

"Fuck, it's him," he whispered, lowering himself to his knees. He had to find a place to hide, and the closest corner belonged to the house he'd come out of earlier. "It's ManPig."

Kenny's breath hitched. _"Did he see you?"_

"No, not yet." Watching the man, Kyle started to move towards the building: if he stayed on his spot any longer, ManPig would surely notice him. He didn't want to get caught by the psychopath again.

" _I'm on my way,"_ Kenny promised him. _"Hide."_

Kyle got to the house unnoticed and hopped around the corner, heaving. "I… I got your gun," he choked out. "Found it in his house. Not sure I can shoot him..."

" _Do whatever you can to stop him. I'm almost there."_

"Okay. Okay… Be careful."

Neither hung up; Kyle crawled to a bunch of crates settled by the wall and sat among them, looking through the gaps in case ManPig decided to come all the way here. He took out the gun, kept it in his hand and ready. It would have been great if magic hadn't been marring his sight and music outplaying the noise coming from the other side of the house, but Kyle supposed he could bear with it. As long as he stayed focused-

"There you are."

He nearly jumped out of his skin.

The voice that greeted him hadn't come from his left or right. Low and distorted, it had come from above. Petrified, Kyle looked up and met the eyes of an animal; ManPig was standing on the roof and staring him down. The man moved his fingers, and the scissors clicked into place.

"You must return to your room," he said. "We aren't finished yet."

" _Kyle?!"_ Kenny's voice rang through the speaker.

Kyle wanted to say something, anything, but his tongue refused to listen and sewed itself to his jaw. ManPig caught the sight of Mysterion's gun in his hold and tsked in disapproval. "You shouldn't be carrying this. You're supposed to be helping me."

Having said that, the man simply walked off the roof and fell, landing on his feet right beside Kyle. Kyle felt the dirt shiver under ManPig's weight, jumped up and backed away. Stan's phone fell to the ground.

"I'm not going back," he hissed, pointing the gun at the maniac. "Turn the magic off. You know how to do it, don't you?"

ManPig watched him without answering. Or, rather, watched the gun in Kyle's hold. Kyle couldn't see the man's face but somehow knew what expression he was wearing.

"You must return," ManPig repeated. He sounded less patient now. "You have already betrayed my trust once. Do not make the same mistake again."

Kyle had no clue what he was talking about. The only thing he knew was that ManPig stepped towards him, and he stepped back at the same time.

"Don't come any closer," he warned. "You may have your magic, but I bet your skin is not bulletproof."

"I haven't harmed you before," ManPig pointed out, continuing to approach. "But I am capable of doing so. Let go of the weapon and come with me."

Kyle pressed his lips into a thin line. "No."

His refusal was the last thread. With a yell, ManPig dashed towards him, and even though Kyle was aware of how to shoot properly, he just didn't have enough time to put his knowledge into action. Taken aback, he pulled the trigger; the gun fired, and his attacker howled in pain. The bullet missed his chest but scratched his forearm.

"You…" ManPig growled.

Enraged by the slight injury, the psychopath went on with the assault, and he became twice as fast. Kyle braced himself for another shot, tried to focus – his finger lay on the trigger yet didn't pull: Mysterion's feet crashed into ManPig's head before he was able to. Kyle barely recognized him thanks to a black hoodie; it was the same one he'd given Kenny at U-Stor-It two days ago.

The angle of the blow wasn't perfect: ManPig staggered but remained upright. Mysterion landed on his feet behind the man and delivered another blow right below his knees, attempting to knock him down; while it made ManPig lose his balance, he still managed to regain it and turned around, ready to confront the hero.

At this moment Kyle saw illusions surging towards Mysterion: scattering all around him, they tried to lure his attention. The maniac was bigger, much heavier than the hero, and even though Mysterion was faster and knew where to hit, he was also forced to fight for his concentration. Immune to hallucinations, ManPig had a clear advantage.

A part of the spell fixed on Kyle; he started to feel dizzy, and his hands shook, making it harder to aim. He was too afraid to fire even though Mysterion kept his distance from ManPig: they constantly moved, and he couldn't even hold the gun in a steady grip.

The hero landed a few hits on ManPig's head with his legs while the psychopath was attempting to get closer and clinch him, and though ManPig's consciousness wavered after receiving another hit and he was evidently nearing a blackout, the hero's mind seemed to be in a state much worse. The blow that was meant to finish ManPig didn't go as planned due to Mysterion's condition, so the maniac took this opportunity to grab him and throw him at the wall.

The hit got Mysterion in the head; he clutched it with both hands, and his legs twitched, hardly able to keep him up. Kyle's vision blurred as he felt something similar coming onto him: his hearing weakened, colors swam out of line art, and shadows blended into music that was becoming visible now. The world centered itself on Mysterion, every pixel and grain of reality revolved around him.

"Kyle…" the man moaned, and Kyle couldn't resist the desire to touch him. He began walking forward, mesmerized, with his hand outstretched and fingers spread, and was almost by the hero's side when ManPig stumbled into his way and blocked it. The fairy tale roared at him, infuriated at his cruel interference, but ManPig didn't listen to it, didn't even see it. With a grunt, he grabbed the front of Mysterion's neck with his fat, meaty fingers, hauled him up and then threw him at the crates. The hero's body slid down, limp, and suddenly, everything came to a stop. Kyle held his breath, wordless.

… _._

… _._

… _._

ManPig was coughing somewhere far, far away, and Kyle couldn't see him - or anything else, for that matter. The barn disappeared, the farms disappeared, ManPig, the police, houses – he couldn't see any of it, only Mysterion's unmoving form. Kyle dropped to his knees.

"Kenny…?"

His eyes widened when he saw blood.

"Kenny…!"

The music unwound around him, but it sounded all broken; words crashed into each other, disfigured each other, altered the lyrics.

 _Close youreyes- and I kill you_

 _TommorowI'll kill you_

 _Remember you'llalwaysbe dead_

 _And then-_

The flames returned, hurricanes swirled from pitch black, and Kyle felt like he was falling apart, burning, drowning, choking on air his lungs couldn't ingest. The world reappeared, screamed in agony, blood dripping from the pulsing red sky; fairies were tearing their wings off, unicorns impaled trees and thrashed about until their horns were ripped off clean. The magic was dying, gripped Kyle's soul and his heart as it sank, nailed its fingers deep into his brain, ruining his mind to a point where he couldn't rely on it anymore. As her host, he was doomed to vanish with it, and it was painful, hellishly so.

"You should have stayed in your room," ManPig rumbled, leaning to the wall.

Kyle didn't hear him.

 _All my dying_

 _I willsend to you_

 _Dying_

 _Dying_

 _Dying_

Kyle couldn't understand how this could be happening, how Kenny could be dead. He raised the gun to his head.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I can't-"

Steel pressed to his temple, and he closed his eyes, saying his final goodbye. The illusions told him he had found his happiness, but he got it killed, so he had nothing to live for, not anymore. They told him that since he failed, he had to die.

"Woooah- hold on a second there, you retarded Jew!" a new voice cut in, and strong fingers wrapped around Kyle's wrist, pulling the gun away from his head. Kyle flinched, tried to bring it back to its place, but the owner of the hand didn't let him.

"Let me go!" he shouted, fresh tears streaming down his face. "I've got nothing to live for!"

"Uh huh." The voice ignored him. There was a sly edge to it that Kyle had already heard, one he couldn't stand more than anything. Cartman had always attempted to make fun of him, to laugh at him, and now he was denying Kyle his only exit.

"Let go!" Kyle demanded.

"I'd _love_ to see you shoot yourself, believe me," the detective assured him. "But later. Right now we still need you for the case."

"Stop, just stop! I _have_ to die! I can't live without Kenny, please, I can't-"

With a huff, Cartman snatched the gun out of his grasp. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"He's dead, you fucking fatass! Kenny is dead! This bastard killed him!" Kyle yelled. The detective threw a glance at Mysterion's body and frowned.

"Are you fucking high or what? He's not dead, shut your drama queen." He rubbed his temples, and added much quieter, "Jesus Christ, what's wrong with you people…"

Silence dawned upon them. ManPig stood idle, observing as Kyle stilled, stunned by Cartman's statement.

"…he's not?" the man repeated slowly.

"Nah," Cartman snorted. He took a step towards the hero and kicked him with his boot. Mysterion groaned. "He's just wasting his time lying around."

Kyle didn't hear anything past "nah" and rushed to Mysterion's side: the hero was starting to come to his senses, groaning in pain but, just like Cartman had said, alive. Kyle pulled him into a careful hug, avoided touching his bleeding jaw and nose. The spell was blooming once again, fable creatures coming back to life and singing along. Kyle hid his face in the collar of the black hoodie, and Mysterion pressed a warm hand to his cheek.

"Nooow, there's only one thing left to deal with," Cartman announced, still armed with the gun he'd taken from Kyle. ManPig growled as the detective raised it.

"You don't want to shoot me," he said. "I still have to save this town."

"Yeah, well, I don't really care." Cartman shrugged with his free shoulder, aiming. He fired twice; both bullets hit ManPig in his legs, and the man tumbled down, unable to stand anymore. "Should've brought a gun to the fight, bruh. Pacifist route always goes wrong. Now where is it?"

"Where's what…" ManPig coughed.

"The tape. Where's the tape. The thing that made everyone batshit crazy; you know what I'm talking about."

Kyle looked up at the detective. "What tape?"

"Some kind of a cursed ancient video cassette. Got a call from Drive Co. an hour ago, it came with the collector's edition of Hotline."

Kyle looked back at Mysterion who was still recovering, then at the house. "I think I saw a VCR in the basement. But it's just homemade porn-"

"Uh huh." Cartman interrupted him and handed the gun back, then turned to the entrance of the building. "Don't shoot yourself while I'm gone. I don't want to miss it."

He took off. Kyle had questions, many of them. He wanted to know what on Earth was going on here, why Cartman suddenly decided that a porn tape was causing mass illusions, why the detective was the only one who wasn't affected by them, why said porn tape came with a collector's edition of some bizarre game…

Mysterion's hand snaked around his waist, and his thoughts evaporated, persuaded by the spell.

"I don't understand a damn thing," the hero rasped.

Kyle pulled him closer, watching as the police officers abandoned their hunting mission all at once, straightening up and looking around in a collective attempt to grasp the situation. Craig and Stan were released too; they finally stopped giving orders and simply stood among the others, flushed red with embarrassment. ManPig froze completely.

Kyle too felt the magic shifting, lifting from his head; he heard it taking the music with it, saw it withdrawing the illusions and special effects. He and Kenny, they were free from it now.

He closed his eyes, realizing how low his IQ had been when he was under the spell.

"Me neither," he said.

* * *

Song: All My Loving by The Beatles


	13. Chapter 13

Despite the tremendous force ManPig had put into his punches and throws during the one on one fight in the farms, Kenny's body was healing quite nicely. His face was still marred by some ill-looking spots, of course, and his torso was covered in bruises, not to mention he limped from time to time - but the general improvement was there. Kenny's mood shifted upwards as well, and he smiled a lot more often now and with such bald cheerfulness that sometimes Kyle couldn't help doing the same in return. The captured redheads were finally released from their cages and taken to their homes, danger lifted from the streets, and South Park regained its peace once again – everything was going back to normal.

That, however, didn't mean that the police were finished with the ManPig case, and it certainly didn't mean that Kyle or Kenny were done wondering what exactly had happened within the past three crazy weeks. A day and a half had passed since the seizing operation, and Craig still kept his mouth shut about the case progress - said he wouldn't share any details until he had a more or less solid proof to lean on. The only option that remained was to wait.

"Dude, I'm freezing. Are you done standing there yet?"

Kyle threw one last glance through the barely patched up window of Kenny's room, watching the lights in the Broflovski residence go off: at least he was positive that no one would barge inside and kidnap his mother in the middle of the night. He tugged down the sleeves of his sleep shirt and leaned away from the windowsill.

"Thought you were used to the temperature," he said. Kenny grinned at him from the bed where he was lying wrapped up in two blankets: his own torn one and Kyle's.

"Come here," he offered, unfolding and raising them up. A layer of white bandages around his ribs caught Kyle's eye and made him press his lips together; obediently, he walked over to the bed and slid under the covers. "You're the one who's freezing, Kyle."

"I'm fine."

"Didn't say you weren't."

Kenny shuffled closer, and Kyle relaxed into the warmth, rubbing his fingers against the man's chest and trying to get rid of persistent concerns. There was so much he couldn't wrap his head around, and because he didn't, his thoughts refused to calm down, building all sorts of suggestions around why, for example, Cartman was immune to ManPig's magic, or why said magic existed in the first place. Kyle really wanted to shut it all off but couldn't.

A short cough came from the other room, putting his inner struggle on pause.

"Maybe we should take her to the hospital," he said after a moment, frowning. Lying naked in the basement of ManPig's farm house had left Mrs. McCormick with a cold.

Kenny shook his head. "Nah, she doesn't want to go, and we don't have an insurance. She'll get better soon, I hope."

"Alright."

They fell silent again, with the rest of the house following suit this time. Seeking more comfort, Kyle rolled further on his side and ended up halfway on top of Kenny. That earned him an amused chuckle.

"What?" he muttered.

"Nothing." Kenny reached out with his free hand and pulled the lamp switch off, submerging the room into darkness. "Get some sleep, okay? I'll call Craig tomorrow if you want."

"No need," Kyle refused tiredly. "He won't share anything until you put the cape back on."

"Then maybe I should do that…"

"Or maybe you should heal first."

Kenny sighed, though did so half-heartedly. "I didn't mean I'd go on patrol."

Wounded as he was, he still yearned to fulfill his duty as the hero of South Park, and while Kyle admired his willingness and would actually feel kind of safer knowing there was someone strong and immortal on watch, he couldn't simply let Kenny wander around the town in such a state. Instead, they decided to let the police do their work and spent the past two evenings together – Kenny watching over his mother, and Kyle watching over them both. At nights, the two of them kept each other warm beneath the blankets.

"Good night, Kenny," Kyle whispered.

"Night," came a content response.

As soon as they stopped talking, ManPig's case attempted to invade Kyle's mind again, but he evaded, closing his eyes and focusing on Kenny's steady breath, on the smooth texture of his bandages. Overall, it was the third night they were spending in the same bed, and he already couldn't imagine how he'd be sleeping in his own room when-

 _Bzzzzzt_

The abrupt noise came from the bedside table. Kyle opened his eyes and reached out on autopilot, feeling for his phone.

Kenny groaned. "Man, it's past midnight… Who's that?"

Another buzz came from the device while Kyle was flipping the digital lock open. Two messages from Stan met his half-open eyes.

 _[U have 2 see this]_

 _[Craig's here, tryin 2 barge into Cartman's house]_

Confused but suddenly curious, Kyle began typing a reply. Before he could finish, however, another two texts came through.

 _[Dude, it's gettin real good]_

 _[Come over here quick]_

"So?" Kenny tried again, sounding more awake this time.

Instead of answering, Kyle tossed the phone into his hands and waited. After a few seconds of staring at the chat box and catching up, Kenny nodded and began to crawl over him and to the edge of the bed.

"Come on. Whatever it is, we don't wanna miss it," he said. Kyle couldn't agree more.

* * *

Kyle looked through the window one more time while Kenny was busy pulling on his jeans and t-shirt (the man was a tad slower than usual due to his injuries), but couldn't see much past his own house: it was far too dark, and the distance between Kenny's and Cartman's places was pretty large. He couldn't hear anything either, for the sounds of the neighborhood were too obscured by solid walls and windows.

However, when he and Kenny finally got outside and rushed across the railroad and towards the row of neatly kept houses, zipping and buttoning up their outer garments, the detective's voice rose from ahead of them and began to gradually pick up in volume until it was ringing through the air rather distinctively.

"Fuck you!"

"Hand it over, you asshole!"

Upon getting to the scene, they found three people taking part in it. Still wearing his working clothes and clearly furious, Cartman was standing in the doorway of his residence and blocking it so that Craig wouldn't get in. The officer was lingering just outside, and though his expression was far less vigorous, he was obviously no less unsettled. Stan was passively watching them from a safe distance and became the first one to notice new arrivals.

"Hey, guys," he greeted them.

"Hey," Kyle answered. Kenny simply waved. "What's going on here?"

His voice immediately attracted Cartman's attention: the detective tore his eyes away from Craig and glared at Kyle instead. "What the hell are you two doing here?"

"That doesn't matter," Craig answered for them. "Give it to me, now."

Cartman growled. "Like hell I will!"

"It doesn't belong to you!"

"Nah-ah! Screw you, Craig!"

Kyle had little idea of what they were arguing about, but it wasn't hard for him to realize that things would only go downhill from here: Cartman's usual self was already intolerable, and angry would only push on Craig's buttons and play with his nerves until one of them snapped. He figured it would be best to intervene before that happened, and approached the two men, followed close by Stan and Kenny.

"What did you take?" he asked the detective carefully. Cartman huffed and crossed his hands over his chest.

"It's not your damn business, Jew!"

"He took a clue directly from the crime scene and refuses to share it with the police," Craig explained without looking away from the man. "He's gonna get fired if he doesn't give it back."

"Yeah, whatever, I do what I want," Cartman grunted. "I told you to leave it, Craig. The tape is my responsibility, not yours."

"It's a fucking _clue_ , you moron!"

"Fuck you, and fuck you again!"

"A tape…?" Kyle repeated quietly. Beside him, Kenny tensed. "The one from the basement?"

Cartman gave him another glare, but this time, even though he was aiming at expressing his oceanic rage in it, a drop of nervousness didn't escape Kyle's eye. Alerted, he caught it by its watery tail and held onto it: if his speculations were correct, the video tape could be as dangerous as it was pornographic, and Cartman was certainly fully aware of that. He was immune to its effect, too, which gave him a fair advantage over any other person Kyle knew – except for, maybe, ManPig himself. One glance at Craig told him that the officer had similar thoughts coursing through his mind regardless of his stage of acquaintance with the tape; Kyle had been pretty straightforward about its magical power during his questioning. The only thing he kept hidden from the police department was his awareness of Cartman's immunity to it (since that was a very unbelievable and also very serious accusation he couldn't support with any kind of proof).

"You can't have it to yourself," he said, mirroring Cartman's pose by folding his hands over his chest. "What's the point anyway? You can't control it. And the case reports include it."

"He's right, dude," Stan seconded. "It might be important, so you'll have to share either way."

"Uh-huh, and who's gonna check it? You and Craig? You guys ordered the entire force to arrest some wet fantasy of yours instead of the suspect! Or did you mean our suicidal drama queen and this poor excuse of a hero?" He pointed at Kyle and Kenny.

"You f-" the latter started, but cut himself off.

"There's no one but me who can handle this shit! You all should be damn grateful I took the responsibility," Cartman finished. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna-"

"Not so fast."

Craig stepped forward, planting his foot between the door and the frame which were about to meet. Kyle suspected that Cartman was well capable of hurting the man if he chose to, yet, with a heavy sigh, the detective halted.

"What."

"You have a point," Craig admitted. "But you know we can't leave it up to you. Let's see what's on the tape, and if it's really of no use to the case, I will label it a lost item."

Cartman frowned at the officer, reluctant to say anything at first. Then his eyebrows slowly went up, showing how very unimpressed he was. "Dude, you're dumb or what? I told you I'm the only one who can handle this tape. You'll just go all crazy on me again, and I don't want to spend all weekend scrubbing Jew's brains off of my wall after he goes suicidal."

"I'm not suicidal," Kyle groaned. "Things just got out of hand that time."

"That's not the worst case scenario," the detective muttered, eyeing Kenny who in his turn swiftly looked away.

"If it's unusable, then it's unusable. You can have your fun watching us lose it," Craig pushed him towards cooperation. Cartman watched the doorstep of his home for a little while, deep in thought. Eventually, whatever argument he'd been trying to come up with didn't surface, and a single word flew out of his mouth.

"Whatever."

He considered that answer definite enough and headed off into the living room and then towards the stairway, leaving the front door open. Craig entered first, then Stan, and before Kyle could go in as well, Kenny grabbed his elbow.

"I don't think he expects us to act normal when he turns it on," the man said, "and honestly, I have my doubts too. Maybe it will be safer if I wait here?"

"No, it's alright," Kyle assured him. "It doesn't get bad right away, we should be fine for at least several minutes."

"If you say so."

They came inside the house, and the first thing that hopped into their lines of sight was the ferocity of bright yellow wallpapers accompanied by no less violent green-colored floor. Kyle felt a spontaneous urge to shield his eyes with his hand as he walked to the couch where Craig and Stan were sitting, but unlike him, neither they, nor Kenny seemed to be affected by their surroundings at all. He assumed they'd been here on so many occasions before that they'd gotten used to it.

"So now that we're all in this together and Cartman's fetching the tape, mind telling us what's going on with the case?" Kenny asked the officer. Craig shrugged with a passive expression, evidently too tired to be keeping secrets.

"Seems like ManPig was under the spell like the rest of us. It started about two months ago when he got the collector's edition of that game with a wrong cassette in the box. He decided to watch it before launching the game, and when he turned it on, his common sense took a vacation. Said he heard voices. They told him he was in a game, and his end goal was to purify the world with the essence of red-haired people. I guess he started by purifying his hideout and clothes."

"So… red hair is the essence to save the world," Kyle summed up as he settled on the couch next to the officer. Kenny had to land on the armrest because there wasn't enough space on the seat for four grown men.

"Yeah. Doesn't matter what kind of hair it is as long as it comes from a naturally read-headed person. You know about the mall coffee shop, right?"

"Ugh, don't freaking mention it when I'm around, dude!" Cartman demanded, walking down the stairs with an old black VCR jammed under his arm.

"Well, maybe you should have stayed loyal to that one coffee shop that only had one customer those days," Craig said with a subtle smile. "Anyway, ManPig's mother and several farmers were running the place, and they added body hair into the drink to make it purifying. Apparently, non-redheaded people became addicted to it when they took their first sip."

"Yeah…" Stan and Kenny answered in perfect sync, simultaneously pressing their hands to their throats.

"How much did you drink?" Kyle asked them, narrowing his eyes.

"You don't wanna know," Kenny answered. "And I wish I could forget."

"Other things are less easy to explain," Craig went on about the case. "If what ManPig, Kyle and the others said is true, then the tape is really cursed. It confused ManPig and made him and his family gather hair wherever they could, and when it was no longer enough, it told him to create an infinite supply. Moreover, we can't accuse him of kidnapping people because he never kidnapped anyone in the first place; they all went to his hideout willingly as soon as they got caught under the spell. I think it had to do with the hair on his costume."

"I didn't go willingly, though," Kyle recalled.

"Yes, and maybe you should thank Mysterion for that because he was also there and got into the area of effect while he was trying to save you."

"So, we, like, split the charge between us?" Kenny asked, absently gesturing between him and Kyle.

"Seems so," Craig nodded. "I don't have any other explanation-"

"Ahem, excuse me, are you planning to watch the tape today or should I prepare your fucking rooms?" Cartman interfered, each word dripping with annoyance. He'd connected the VCR to his TV and was now waiting for everyone to pay attention.

"It's weird you still have these," Kyle nodded at the VCR. "No one even makes them these days."

"We're keeping them for classic cursed videotape scenarios," Stan explained with a yawn.

"Turn it on," Craig said. "Try to stay focused. Especially you, Kyle, since you can confirm the tape contents in case Cartman wants to trick us."

"Uh-uh. Fuck you, Craig, you're banished from space and time."

"You do remember we're about to watch a porn tape, right?" Stan reminded everyone.

Cartman turned on the TV and switched it to the video mode, muttering something under his breath; Kyle barely recognized a part of it as "you won't see anything anyway". Kenny had to be right: the detective wasn't expecting them to be concentrated once the spell came into action again because he'd seen a basement full of delusional people back in the farms, and he was thinking that it worked the same on everyone else.

"Ready?" the man asked, and then hit play before anyone could answer. Loud moaning sounds invaded the room, bouncing off its walls.

The effect was immediate. A familiar magical impact hit Kyle's eyes and ears, and the warmth that was seeping through his clothes where he was touching with Kenny's side began to rise. Thankfully, it was nowhere near as strong as the wave that washed over Stan and Craig: the two men jumped from the seat and hid beside the couch, whispering between each other and staring at a round lamp that was hanging on the ceiling. They easily forgot what they had come for.

Cartman snorted and shook his head.

The tape was the same one Kyle had seen in the basement: several men in masks were gathered around a single unmasked woman while one of them was mounting her from behind. Yet again it didn't make him feel repulsed, and he stared at the action, trying to figure out what about it was so powerful it could screw masses of people. His calm behavior didn't remain unnoticed for long, though, and Cartman cleared his throat, watching him closely.

"Are you sure you don't feel like dying, Kyle?" he asked in an awkwardly strained voice. Kyle ignored him and directed all attention he had at the screen - but that didn't last long either because seconds later he heard a surprised gasp from Kenny.

"What the fuck, man?! It's your mom!"

"What…?" Kyle gaped at the screen, stunned by the sudden reveal.

"S-shit!" Horrified, Cartman bolted to the VCR and hit the Power button so hard he almost bashed it in. The tape came to a stop. "What the hell, Kenny! I thought you were-"

"Oh my god…" Kyle uttered. His eyes darted to the walls on instinct, scanning rare pictures that were hanging on them. There was one just behind the couch he was sitting on - a picture of a woman with a child.

It was the same woman that had been moaning through the speakers less than a minute ago.

"What happened?" Craig asked, rising from beside the couch. His expression was mixed, as if he couldn't understand what was real and what was not, and he was embarrassed by his vulnerability at the same time. Stan was bearing the same face, though Kenny's comment put some additional disgust into it.

"So this whole thing started because ManPig saw porn with your mom? Dude…"

"That's why you're immune!" Kyle exclaimed, covering his mouth with his hand as realization hit him. "The tape features your mom, and that's the reason you're-"

"SHUT UP!" Cartman yelled. With shaking fingers he pressed another button on the VCR, and the cassette emerged through the opening with a mechanical sound. The detective grabbed it and held onto it, not sure what to do with it next.

"This is sick," Stan grunted. "No wonder you didn't want anyone to have it-"

"I said, shut up!" Cartman repeated. "You didn't see anything!"

"I did," Kenny objected. "And Kyle did too. We're used to illusions, so lying won't do anything."

"I watched porn with Cartman's mom in it…" Kyle said, his voice shallow as another realization got to him. His hand slid up to his forehead.

Meanwhile, Craig sat back on the couch, looking at nothing in particular: his recovery from embarrassment was fast, and now his expression turned thoughtful, calculating. He hadn't seen the tape with his own eyes, yet he most certainly believed Kenny.

"How did this tape end up with game developers?" he wondered. "Did your mother have an affair with someone who works there?"

"The fuck I know!" Cartman answered, covering his eyes with his hand. He let out a shaky breath. "They called me and said the cassette was enchanted. They'd put it into the box and sent it god knows where... And I didn't even know what was on it until I saw it. I was planning to sell it back to them."

"Why didn't they track it down earlier?" Craig asked. "And why did they call _you_ of all people?"

"'cause they weren't sober enough to search. Said they couldn't stop drinking until all their income was spent. And they called _me_ because _I_ was the only person sane enough to answer."

"And the only person willing to steal a clue from the crime scene and make profit out of it," Stan added.

"Oh I'm sorry I saved your fucking asses, you bunch of ungrateful bastards. If it wasn't for me, you'd be still galloping in the fields, and _you,_ " Cartman pointed at Kyle, "would be freaking dead. Sorry I thought it would be best to get rid of it and get myself a _little_ reward."

For a moment, everyone fell quiet. The tape had been turned on for less than a minute, yet that short period of time wrecked everyone. Craig connected the pieces together, and the others tried to come to terms with reality and accept what they'd just seen.

"So… what do we do now?" Stan asked. Utterly destroyed by the experience he'd just had, Kyle answered first.

"I think I need a therapy," he mumbled, clutching the sleeve of Kenny's parka. "But right now, let's just go home..."

"Yes," Kenny agreed. "Yeah, let's do that. What about the tape?"

Craig threw a glance at the detective. "We're destroying it."


	14. Chapter 14

Kyle typed a new message as he was walking past the cinema, tucking his nose into the nearly absent warmth of his gray woolen scarf. He'd wrapped it tightly around his neck to fight off the evening chill, and yet the nasty thing still prevailed, making him shiver and glad he'd taken a bus from the office building to cover at least some of his way.

 _[Which one do you want?]_

An immediate reply – or half a dozen of them, more precisely - came in, popping up below his question in a quick row.

 _[i think ill go with the usual]_

 _[actually no wait ill have whatever ur havin 2day]_

 _[done with the delivery so ill meet u in ur room]_

 _[still have an hour or so before i go on patrol]_

 _[dontwanna spend it anywhere near my parents]_

 _[alright]_

Kyle nodded to himself: ever since Kenny's father had returned from the detox center, the poor area of the town had been full of uncontrollable shouts and screaming. Moreover, this verbal rampage was going on during day hours as well, and Kyle assumed that Kenny's parents were actively trying to make up for all the time they'd lost thanks to the masked psychopath. He couldn't blame Kenny for wanting to escape that hell.

 _[Ok. I'll be there soon. Be careful with the window.]_

 _[aye]_

Kyle switched off the screen and sped up, hiding his hands in his pockets.

Another week was slowly wandering towards its end, dragging ManPig's unfinished mission further into the past of the quiet mountain town where it would someday become one of its unbelievable stories. As Friday night was closing in with massive clouds and wet dirt plastered all over sidewalks and roads, people started to leave their working places to finally go home and sleep for the two remaining days or to find a nice place where they would be able to sit back, drink something hot and relax. The most popular place – the mall coffee shop - wasn't in business anymore due to "unhealthy ingredients put into product", and while initially the news had been met with a splash of panicking anger, gradually, the situation was leveled.

The existence of something similar but at the same time so old and dear and reliable helped soothing the minds of many.

The lights were bright in Tweek Bros., and when Kyle pushed the front door open, loud chatter poured on him from the inside, along with laughter and a comforting aroma of freshly-brewed coffee – just like it had been before the cheating competitor showed up. Each and every table was busy, and though for Tweek that obviously meant lots of hard work and cleaning up to do, he didn't seem to be greatly bothered. Craig was sitting next to him behind the counter, watching a small TV that was attached to the wall opposite of him.

As Kyle made his way to them, he spotted familiar faces: a few tables were occupied by a group of boys and girls from the elementary school (which was a miracle since the war was still on and the stolen collector's edition had been found by someone's parent and successfully confiscated), two of ManPig's former captives were having a friendly talk by the window, and in the far corner of the room a crowd of people had pushed two tables together and were now drinking coffee and discussing something excitedly, surrounded by colorful shipping banners and posters.

Tweek smiled when he saw Kyle approaching, albeit a little nervously.

"Hi."

"Hi," Kyle greeted him in return. "I see you're getting more and more people every day."

"Yeah. To be honest, it's difficult to be dealing with so many, but Craig helps me when he can. So, what's it gonna be? The usual?"

"Almost. More like my usual, but doubled."

Tweek nodded. "Coming right up!"

"Kyle." Craig, who'd been sitting quietly before, briefly gestured towards the TV, then picked up the remote and raised the volume so that the man would be able to hear better. "Watch this."

Kyle frowned, leaning over the counter. Apparently, judging by the large cozy studio and the audience he saw on the screen, Craig was watching some kind of celebrity show, which was already quite surprising, considering the officer's character. But then everything cleared up: he saw two sofas standing in the middle of the room; one was taken by the show's host and the other… by no other than ManPig himself, still in his mask but in a much more presentable costume. Kyle's frown instantly morphed into shock, and then disbelief as the host's words flooded his ears.

"…and without further ado, I would like to ask you _the_ question: what are you working on right now? Just three hours ago DRIVE Co. twitted that a new game is currently in development, with you as its producer. Can you tell us about it?"

"Okay. Okay, why am I not surprised," Kyle muttered, facepalming.

"They took him from our doorstep," Craig informed him further. "Literally, a car was waiting for him outside the police department the day he was released."

"This is so stupid…"

"Tell me about it."

Meanwhile, ManPig was answering the host's question, his voice muffled by the mask but still sounding undeniably satisfied. "Yes, we are indeed working on a new game, and it is roughly based on real events, on the experience I – personally - had. Sadly, I can't tell you much about it at this moment, but stay tuned for future updates!"

"Thank you!" the host chirped. "Now to the other questions! As far as we know, you spent thirty years of your life in Denver before suddenly moving to a small mountain town. Can you tell us what became the reason of that change? Did you like it in there?"

"Oh, absolutely!" ManPig assured her. "Lovely hairdressers, just wonderful! I strongly, _strongly_ recommend them to everyone!"

"Thank you."

Kyle sighed and straightened his back, suddenly not feeling like watching the rest of the show. South Park never ceased to surprise him, and while he normally swallowed everything it threw his way, this once he kind of wished it would just stop. Tweek packed his order in a paper bag with the coffee shop logo on it, and he took out his wallet to pay.

"It could've been worse, he could have decided to stay in our town," Craig noted, observing the exchange with a calm expression. "Or tried himself in politics. Run for mayor, for instance."

Kyle threw another glance at the TV screen where ManPig was laughing at something, behaving like a citizen with a perfectly clean record behind his back. The sight disturbed him to no end, and of course Craig was right. "Thank god he didn't."

"Thanks for the purchase, Kyle," Tweek said, waving his hand as Kyle turned back to the door.

"Yeah," he responded.

Later, when Kyle was leaving the coffee shop, he pressed the bag to his chest: the paper cups inside it were hot and kept him pleasantly warm. The sun had already disappeared behind the mountains, and street lamps were beginning to wake up, lighting his way back to the bus stop. Everything seemed so innocently normal.

"What the hell," Kyle muttered under his breath as he walked. The world he lived in was ludicrous beyond repair: magic was in the air, red hair was someone's salvation, maniacs were being turned into celebrities… no, this episode of South Park's life certainly didn't end the way he would have wanted.

Thankfully, at least he'd managed to get a grip on the most important thing.


End file.
